Before the Bunch I: Mike and His Boys
by FantasyIslander65
Summary: What was life like for Mike, Greg, Peter and Bobby before they met the other half of the Brady bunch? Here's the story!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _I've been thinking about writing this story for several years (there will be companion pieces following Carol and the girls, as well as one for Alice), and now I've finally gotten it under way. Those who have read the stories I've posted under my MagicSwede1965 account will find that my chapters are shorter than usual; but the _Brady Bunch _was always pretty fast-paced, and the stories will get more in-depth as they go along. Many thanks to Woemcat for permission to use the names she created in her story "Welcome Aboard": Mike's parents, brother and sister, his future siblings-in-law, and of course Sue (to tell the truth, I always thought Mike's first wife looked like a Sue anyway, so it was a perfect coincidence). Enjoy!_

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**THE WEDDING**

"I hope you know what you're doing, son," said Thomas Brady, watching his firstborn child standing on the edge of the driveway staring anxiously down the street. "I mean, you still have another year of school to go before you can start looking for work."

Michael Brady squinted at his father over his shoulder. "Dad, I think we've discussed it before. Sue doesn't want to have this baby before we're married, and I totally agree with her. Anyway, I proposed to her before we found out she was pregnant, so this was our intention all along. Besides, she makes good money as a secretary, so we're not going to starve, and she knows how to get everything we need for the baby at a discount. We'll make it, Dad, don't worry so much."

Thomas sighed gently while his 23-year-old son resumed watching the street. This was the day Mike and his fiancée were to be married, in a small backyard ceremony with only their families and the bride and groom's closest friends in attendance. His wife, Agnes, had said good-naturedly that the bride was likely to be late; Sue was the most organized young woman she'd ever met, but the scatterbrained aunt with whom Sue had grown up would put paid to her efforts to get here on time.

"Geez, Dad, Mike, is she here yet?" demanded a voice, and this time both Thomas and Mike turned to see nineteen-year-old Richard Brady, called Rick, jogging down the driveway. He was closely followed by his twin sister Patricia. "This monkey suit makes me itch."

"Live with it," Mike advised curtly and went back to scanning the street. "I know I said three o'clock…"

"It'll be Aunt Charlotte's fault," Patricia said knowingly. "It's always Aunt Charlotte's fault. Everybody else is here and they're starting to get restless."

"Because of all these itchy monkey suits, I'll bet," Rick said. "Come on, Mike, you might as well come back with us. Sit down and think about all the trouble you're about to get into."

Mike shot him an impatient look, and Patricia slugged him in the arm. "You spoilsport. Mike, come on—it's like waiting for water to boil, she won't show up while you're standing out here watching for her."

"She's right, son," Thomas said, amused.

Mike sighed and gave up at last. "Oh, all right." And just as he started back up the driveway, they heard a horn beeping and all turned around to see a 1949 Studebaker just completing its turn into the street and approaching them. "Hallalujah!" Mike exclaimed.

"She didn't change her mind after all, huh?" Rick said wickedly, earning himself another sock in the arm from his sister. "Geez, sis, knock it off. You've got a mean arm for a girl."

"I was holding back," Patricia retorted spiritedly. "Just wait till I get _really_ mad. Okay, Mike, quick, get to the backyard—you're not supposed to see Sue till she walks down the aisle, or it's gonna be bad luck."

But it was too late; Mike was beaming at Sue as she swung into the Brady driveway, and it was plain from where they stood that she was fully decked out in her wedding gown, even down to the veil. Thomas stepped forward and opened the driver's door for Sue, allowing the voluminous skirt of her gown to spill out before Sue could even swing her feet out. "Wow," Patricia breathed, entranced.

"You look fabulous, honey," Mike said, unable to stop staring at her.

Sue grinned at him. She was a pretty young woman, a year older than Mike, with glossy shoulder-length dark-brown hair held back from her face by the tiara to which her veil was attached, and big brown eyes that always lit up whenever she saw Mike. "Sorry we're late," she said breathlessly, taking Mike's hand and pulling herself out of the car. "Auntie Charlotte couldn't find a purse to match her dress."

Patricia grinned. "We figured as much. If we all run, the wedding can start right on time."

Thomas had gone around to the passenger side of the car to assist Sue's widowed aunt, somewhere in her late sixties, out of the car. "Gracious," Charlotte said, blinking myopically at Thomas and smiling a little vacuously. "I truly didn't mean to hold up the show, I just wanted to look right for my dear niece's wedding."

"Of course, Mrs. Gill, of course," Thomas chuckled. "No harm done, none at all. We saved you a seat right up front next to Gene." They all started toward the backyard, Mike insisting on accompanying Sue despite the dubious glances Patricia kept tossing over her shoulder.

"I tell you, it's bad luck," she insisted.

"That's only a superstition," Mike said dismissively. "Come on, Patty, be happy for us, okay? I need someone on my side when Rick starts ragging me again."

"He hasn't seen my dress before this," Sue chimed in. "It's right before the wedding, so it's only a matter of a few minutes. What's the harm? As long as Mike and I are married, that's all that counts."

"If you say so," Patricia murmured, but pasted a smile on her face. There was no point in ruining Mike and Sue's wedding day, and besides, her big brother was probably right. Other than her dad, there was nobody else Patricia knew who was more down-to-earth and dedicated to his family—both his parents and siblings, and now his wife-to-be and their unborn child. Another year of school and Mike could call himself a full-fledged architect, and by that time Patricia would be an aunt. She could hardly wait.

Sue's cousin Gene was waiting for them, and Mike winked at them both before he hurried ahead to where the minister waited patiently. Charlotte picked her way up front and settled herself into a chair beside Gene's empty seat; Agnes Brady, waiting nearby, lifted the needle of the record player and carefully set it into the proper track of the LP waiting on the turntable. And with that, the wedding march began, and Gene Gill escorted his beautiful young cousin down the aisle toward a deliriously grinning Mike Brady.

It was a small wedding, paid for by the bride and groom themselves with some assistance from the groom's parents and the bride's aunt and cousin, her only living relatives; but those attending all agreed that Michael Paul Brady and Susan Joanne Delaney had been married in grand style. Yet young Patricia Brady just couldn't shake the awful feeling that something was destined to go wrong. Maybe it didn't have so much to do with Mike seeing Sue in her wedding gown before she came down the aisle, but the thought of the old superstition stuck with her even though she knew she should know better. She glanced into the bright blue sky overhead and then hid her hand in the folds of her skirt before crossing her fingers.

Agnes and Thomas sat beside each other watching the ceremony, smiles on their faces. Agnes glanced at her husband and then at her son, comparing the two, realizing just how much alike they really were. They even shared a first name: Michael Thomas Brady, her husband, had been delighted when Agnes had suggested naming their firstborn child for him, though he'd asked that they give him a different middle name to avoid needless confusion in the future. So their son had been dubbed Michael Paul, though he went by Mike while his father simply used his middle name.

They shared more than that, though: a down-to-earth nature tempered by a real and honest love for the women in their lives; a determination to provide the best things they could for their loved ones; a belief in the value of sticking to a commitment once they made it; and a firm resolution to raise their children right. Mike had somehow managed to find a woman who shared all these attributes, and Agnes had no doubt that Mike and Sue were going to be among the best parents in the world. The grandchildren Mike and Sue gave them would be some of the luckiest kids ever.

She was still wreathed in these cheerful daydreams and hopes for the future post-wedding, while she, Patricia and several female friends and relatives were taking down the decorations and putting away the leftover wedding cake and the men were breaking down folding chairs and card tables to be stored away. But she came out of them suddenly when she saw Patricia's pensive face; her daughter seemed to be locked in her own thoughts, barely responding when someone addressed her.

Finally Agnes took her aside. "Now what's the story with that long face on such a happy day?"

Patricia bit her lip, scraping off the lipstick she had been allowed to wear specifically for this special day. "I keep thinking…" she began, lowering her gaze and turning pink. "I mean…" She hesitated, biting off yet more lipstick, then finally huffed out an impatient breath and looked pleadingly at Agnes. "Mom, do you believe in that superstition, about the groom not seeing the bride in her gown before the wedding?"

Agnes blinked once or twice, then laughed. "My goodness, Patricia, you know that's no more than a silly custom. You yourself just called it a superstition. Is that what's bothering you?"

Patricia shrugged a little. "Well, maybe not so much the superstition itself. It was more a feeling I kept having all the way through the wedding. Mom, I'm really afraid for Mike and Sue. Sue's such a great girl and I like her tons—she's going to be the greatest sister-in-law. And I don't want anything happening to her, because of that, and because I know it'd just kill Mike." She must have seen Agnes' confusion on her face, for she cleared her throat and concluded, "The point is, I have this feeling something terrible's going to happen to them. I remembered that superstition, Mike saw Sue in her gown before the ceremony started, and then I had that feeling. And I've still got it."

Agnes shook her head. "I'm sure that's just nerves, dear. After all, it's a big change, having Mike get married and then leave home to make a life with Sue. Your dad and I had butterflies all day long, but that's no reason to believe it's an omen." She smiled at Patricia and squeezed her around the shoulders. "Now put it out of your head, and concentrate on the happy things. Mike and Sue are married, you can tell they're going to be very happy together, and just wait till their baby gets here next spring. You'll get to have all the fun of being an aunt. Don't you worry about it, everything will be just fine."

Patricia managed a smile, but Agnes could see her daughter wasn't fully convinced. "If you say so, Mom. I just wish I knew where this awful feeling came from and why it won't go away."

"I'm sure it'll go away in time, dear, once we're all adjusted to Mike not living with us anymore and Sue being a part of the family now. There's no point in borrowing trouble," Agnes said firmly.

Patricia stood a moment and considered it, then made a face and nodded firmly once. "You're right, Mom. I guess it's pretty morbid of me to be thinking about that kind of stuff when Mike and Sue are just starting out. Anyway, I don't want to jinx them."

"Patricia Darlene…" Agnes warned.

Patricia grinned mischievously. "Just pulling your leg, Mom. Come on, let's see how much cake is left over, before all the cousins start slicing it up and taking pieces home with them."


	2. Chapter 2

**NUMBER-ONE SON**

"It's a boy!" the doctor announced, beaming, reaching out to shake Mike's hand as the new father leaped out of his hospital-waiting-room chair and half-ran toward him. "Strong and healthy, yowled like crazy when he came out—nice set of lungs on that little fella. Your wife's in good shape, sound asleep." He grinned. "Can't quite say the same for your boy. He's wide awake and charming the daylights out of the nurses."

Mike chuckled. "Practicing to be a heartthrob already, huh?" he kidded, following the doctor back to the elevator and leaning against one wall, very pleased with himself and with Sue.

The doctor grinned. "Picked out a name yet?"

"We decided on Gregory Joseph Brady, for her dad," Mike said. "Sue's hoping he looks like him, but it'll be a while before we find out about that. I'm just glad he's finally here."

"That's what your wife said when the little guy popped out," the doctor remarked cheerfully. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open, and Mike followed him out. "Just down this corridor here, about ten yards or so. You'll see your son in his crib."

"Can I see my wife?" Mike asked.

"Better that she has a good night's rest right now. She's been through quite an ordeal, and she'll be more rested tomorrow and might be up to visitors then. But your boy's greeting everybody he sees. Ask the nurse nicely, she might even let you hold him."

"Hold him!" Mike reared back suddenly, staring at the surprised doctor. "I've never held a baby in my life. What if I drop him?"

"The nurse'll show you how, Mr. Brady, don't worry. And babies don't break, contrary to popular opinion. Besides, he's a sturdy little fella, so don't be scared of him. Before you know it, you'll be doing it like a pro. Good luck." The doctor winked and strolled off down another corridor, and Mike continued on his way to the room where the newborns were ensconced in their cribs behind big plate-glass windows, most asleep, some awake. The crib second from the right in the front was labeled BABY BOY BRADY, and its occupant was feebly waving a pair of tiny fists and screaming for all he was worth. Mike stared at him in fascination. So this was their little Greg. He wondered why the doctor had said he'd had such a great pair of lungs; it was true he could hear baby Greg wailing from out here, but the sounds emerging from the infant's mouth were high-pitched and short in duration, as though half the effort Greg put into crying was taken up just by drawing breath.

Then Mike noticed how red he was, especially in the face, and frowned. A baby wasn't supposed to be allowed to go on bawling like that, was it? He looked around the room and saw a nurse just entering; she met his gaze, smiled and nodded once, and went right to Greg's crib, lifting the baby out and gently cradling him against her shoulder. She softly patted Greg's back, and Mike could see her making "shh" sounds, pursing her lips. He tapped on the window; she looked up, and he pointed at the baby on her shoulder, then at himself, and mouthed, "I'm his father."

The nurse brightened and nodded, then brought the baby out. Greg's energetic howling had died down to a few halfhearted, hiccuping bleats now and then, reassuring Mike greatly. "He's okay, right?" he asked a little anxiously.

"Oh, he's just fine," the nurse said cheerily. "He's only showing the world what a great singing voice he has." Mike had to laugh. "Would you like to hold him?"

"I don't know how," Mike confessed reluctantly.

"Oh, here, let me show you. Make a cradle out of your arms, like this." The nurse shifted Greg into a cradle carry so Mike could see what she meant. "Just hold him like this and make sure his head has good support. He'll be a little floppy till he's around three months old or so and his neck muscles get strong enough to support his head on their own."

Mike tried to imitate the nurse's position, and she transferred Greg into his arms. At her instructions, he lifted his left arm a bit so that Greg's head was higher than his feet. "There you go, Mr. Brady. That's perfect. Oh, my gosh, he's stopped crying!"

Mike stared at his son and realized she was right; Greg had quieted completely and was gazing right up at him with that funny blank look typical of newborns. To Mike, the expression on the infant's face was infinitely trusting, as if to say, _Hi, Dad, nice to meet you, I'm glad you're gonna take such good care of me._ In that moment Mike Brady lost his heart to his firstborn child.

"Cutie, isn't he?" the nurse murmured with a dreamy little smile.

"Not to brag or anything, but yeah, he sure is," Mike said proudly. He glanced at her and saw the look on her face. "Have any of your own yet?"

She blinked and looked up. "Well, not so far, but I'm engaged, and both of us definitely want kids. In the meantime, I get in my practice caring for the newborns here. What are you planning to name him?"

"Gregory Joseph," said Mike with a smile. "Sue wanted to name a boy for her father, and I thought that'd be a great tribute." He looked up again. "The doctor said she's asleep?"

The nurse nodded. "I think she's out for the night. Best thing for her is to sleep and rest up. After all, you're both going to have quite a few sleepless nights for the next six or eight months, so you should get all the sleep you can now, before you take Gregory Joseph Brady home with you."

Mike stood holding his firstborn son for several more minutes, marveling that he and Sue had produced this little scrap of life, a perfect combination of himself and her; then, grinning when Greg yawned widely enough to double the size of his head, he reluctantly handed the baby back to the nurse and thanked her. He knew what room Sue was in, so despite the doctor's words about waiting till later to see her, he sneaked a peek in at her anyway, poking his head in the door just long enough to see that she was sound asleep. He blew her a kiss and then left quietly so he could go home and call his parents and siblings.

The following morning, after his first two classes, Mike rushed to the hospital and dropped in on Sue. She had baby Greg with her this time, cradled in the crook of her arm and with the blanket spread aside so that she could see all of him. She was actually counting Greg's toes when Mike walked in, and the sight made him break into laughter.

Sue looked up and brightened. "Oh, Mike, hi! Did you see Greg last night?"

"Sure did, and he's quite a kid, all right. You sure he's got all the toes he needs?" Mike teased her, pulling a chair away from the wall and taking a seat beside her bed.

Sue stuck her tongue out at him and finished her counting. "Yes, he has all ten fingers and all ten toes. Oh, I hope he keeps those pretty blue eyes. They're just like yours, honey."

"If he doesn't, then his eyes will be just as beautiful as yours." The first time Mike had met Sue, he'd been immediately drawn to her big, soft brown eyes and her sweet smile, and they still had that same effect on him now. "Doc say when you can come home yet?"

"Probably the end of the week," Sue said. "To tell the truth, it'll be nice. I get to lie in bed and admire my new son, and see whose facial features he seems to have, and read all my cards and smell all the flowers. I've already had nine bouquets." Mike took a good look around and grinned; big vases of flowers in every color and several different varieties sat around Sue's half of the hospital room. Sue went on, "It makes a nice rest from work, and a little respite so I can catch my breath before we take Greg home and start having all those sleepless nights the nurses keep warning me about."

"He'll be worth it," Mike said with conviction. "Everybody was thrilled, honey. I called them all last night—Mom and Dad, Rick and Patricia, and Gene and Aunt Charlotte. Patricia's offered babysitting services for the indefinite future and says she can't wait to meet her new nephew, and Mom and Dad are delighted. Gene said congratulations, and Aunt Charlotte said, quote, 'Oh, I didn't know she was having the baby today', unquote." Sue rolled her eyes good-naturedly and he laughed. "And Rick says, better us than him. But that's my brother for you. It'll be a miracle if any girl ever tames him."

"She'll have to be a very special girl all right," Sue agreed, her attention already wandering back to Greg. "Oh, he's just beautiful, Mike. I wish my parents could have seen him." Sue's parents had died when she was a little girl—her mother of cancer before Sue had started school, and her father in a car wreck a couple of years later. Sue had been sent to live with her mother's much older sister, Charlotte, and her husband and son, Gene.

"I think they can, somewhere," Mike said. His family wasn't overtly religious, but they did believe, and he had a conviction that Sue's parents knew everything that had happened in their daughter's life from some other plane. "I believe that's true, anyway. Hey, did I tell you? Mom and Dad told me not to worry about living expenses while I'm finishing school. They're paying all our bills till I graduate, so you can be home with Greg to take care of him and I can get my degree. I've got feelers out to architectural firms all over California and in three or four other states too, and I'm hoping we'll have good news soon."

Sue looked suddenly worried. "I hope we don't have to leave California. I don't really want to start all over again in some strange new place."

"I don't either, to tell the truth, but we can't really afford to be choosy, honey. And even if we do wind up in Arizona or Oregon, our families are only a day's drive away. Don't worry about it, okay? Right now, your first concern is our son. Once I graduate and get in with a good firm, and start proving myself, we can give Greg everything he should have to grow up healthy and happy, and I can buy us a house…"

"Maybe you can _build_ us a house," Sue said, grinning.

Mike grinned back. "Grand dreams, huh? That's okay. We've got practically our whole lives ahead of us. We're gonna make it, honey, just wait and see. I've got you and Greg, and I can't go wrong with a fantastic wife and a terrific little son behind me." He leaned over and kissed her, then ever so gently tickled little Greg on the tummy. The baby squirmed and then yawned, and Mike and Sue laughed softly.

"Are you two up to visitors?" asked a voice, and they both looked around to see Thomas and Agnes Brady in the doorway, peering hopefully into the room. Thomas added, "We just couldn't wait to see our first grandson."

"Well, come on in," said Mike, rising from the chair to hug his mother and then his father, who clapped him on the back. "Take a look—here he is, all seven pounds and sixteen inches of him. Mom, Dad, meet Gregory Joseph Brady, Greg for short."

"Oh my goodness, Tom, he's simply adorable," Agnes cooed, leaning over the bedside to get a closeup of her grandson. "Just look at those pretty blue eyes. Hi, little Greg, I'm your grandma! That's right, sweetums!" She waggled her fingers at Greg, who blinked, still squirming and making involuntary faces. One of them at that moment happened to convey what appeared to be an _are you kidding??_ look, which made them all break into laughter, even Agnes.

"Guess you can forget the baby talk, Mom," Mike kidded.

Agnes snorted with good humor, "Oh, you men." She winked at Sue. "Don't be surprised, dear, if you happen to wander into little Greg's room one of these days and see Mike hanging over the crib, wiggling his fingers and talking nonsense to him when he thinks no one can hear him. Tom did that with all three of ours, and they grew up none the worse for the experience."

"Well, I don't know about Rick," Thomas said thoughtfully, with an exaggeratedly doubtful look, and they laughed again. Greg started to whimper and Sue folded the blanket back over him, then lifted him to her shoulder. Thomas went on, "He and Patricia wanted to come with us, but they both had classes this morning and I wouldn't hold with their skipping. College costs too much for that. So they'll be around this evening, I think."

"That's fine," said Sue. "I'm still pretty worn out from bringing this little guy into the world, and I'll appreciate the wait till they get here. They say Greg and I will probably go home the end of the week."

"That's about par for the course these days," Agnes said, nodding. "In that case, we'll head on out now. I'm glad we had a chance to meet little Greg. If you need anything, either one of you, you make sure to call us. We'll help in any way we can."

Sue watched them go. "Your parents are wonderful, Mike. They're most of the reason I hope we don't end up moving out of California. I can tell they're crazy about Greg already, and it'd be such a relief to have them to help out, instead of being someplace where we don't know anyone and I have to rely on myself."

"I told you not to worry about that," Mike reminded her with gentle sternness, sitting back down. "Like I said, your primary concern is Greg. Let me worry about the job and where we go. Keep a positive attitude, okay? Even if we do have to move, we'll be just fine."

Sue smiled. "I trust you, honey. I know you, and I know how you were raised. But I hope you don't mind if I keep my fingers crossed anyway." Mike laughed, and she giggled back and smoothed the sparse, downy hair on Greg's head while the baby dozed off on her shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**THE ARCHITECT**

The telephone rang in the little three-room apartment Mike and Sue had been renting since their marriage the previous fall, and Sue gave little Greg a kiss atop the head and got up to answer it. Greg, not quite two months old, watched her go, legs pumping jerkily on his quilt on the floor. "Hello," Sue said, looking back at her little son and waggling her fingers at him, with a big, bright grin.

"Is Michael Brady in, please?" asked a female voice.

Sue blinked and forgot about Greg for a moment. "No, I'm sorry, he's out right now. I'm Mrs. Brady." There was no real need to add that last, but she felt compelled to make it clear right away. "Is there any message I can take?"

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Brady. This is Matthews & Phillips Architects calling—he applied for a position in our firm about a month ago. The partners are very impressed with the sample sketches and his school transcripts, and they'd like to set up an interview."

Sue's animosity dropped away and she felt a little stupid, but elation for Mike quickly wiped that out. "That's wonderful! I'm sure he'll be thrilled when he hears about this. Is it possible for him to call you back so that he can set up the interview with you himself?"

"Of course. Have him call me at this number." The woman gave Sue a phone number which she hurriedly wrote on a scratch pad. "My name is Jeanne Forrest, and I'm Mr. Phillips' secretary."

Sue wrote down this information as well. "Perfect. As soon as he gets back I'll let him know."

"I'll be here till five," said Jeanne Forrest, and Sue thanked her and hung up. She looked at Greg and suddenly laughed.

"I'm some kind of idiot, I guess. Here I thought your daddy was taking up with another woman," she said to the baby, shaking her head and settling down beside Greg to play with him again. "I should've known he wouldn't do that. Guess what, sweetie—Daddy's got an interview with a big architect company, and who knows, pretty soon we might be able to move into a bigger apartment! Maybe even a house someday!" She paused and then frowned curiously. "Matthews & Phillips? I wonder where they are?" She jumped to her feet and began riffling through the telephone book, running a finger down the list of architectural companies on one page and, to her delight, finding the firm among them. "Oh, perfect, they're here in Los Angeles! Keep your fingers crossed, Greg!"

"The only thing he can cross yet is his eyes," wisecracked Mike, stepping through the door just as she said this last. "What for?"

"Oh, Mike, you've got an interview," Sue exclaimed, rushing to him with the notepad. "All you have to do is set it up. Matthews & Phillips is interested."

Mike lit up. "Hey, that's great, thanks, honey!" he burst out, reading the information she had written down. "I'd better get it set up now before the chance slips away from me. That's the most promising response I've had since I started putting out my application packages." He half-ran to the phone and dialed the number, and lost no time setting up his interview appointment for two days from now.

"This calls for a celebration," he announced when he'd hung up.

"What kind?" Sue asked eagerly.

"Dinner out—with Greg," said Mike, stooping to lift his little son into his arms. "How about that, little man, your first dinner out with your mother and me!"

Sue looked at him, a little worried. "Don't you think it's a tad premature, honey? It's only an interview."

"But it's still something," said Mike. "Tell you what, though. If you're really that up in arms about it, we can always go over to my parents' place and ask if they'd like to host us. I'm sure they'd be glad to hear about the interview anyway."

"That's true," she agreed. "In that case, let's get going."

They were used to taking the bus everywhere on their nearly nonexistent budget, and were pros at it by now, even with a small baby in tow. Within an hour they were on Thomas and Agnes' doorstep, and the senior Bradys welcomed them right in, with Agnes promptly relieving Sue of Greg. "My goodness, this young man's getting bigger by the day, isn't he," she said proudly. "Come on in, you two, it looks like it might rain any minute. Hasn't it been an unusually wet spring?"

"I thought it was too," Sue agreed, and the women discussed the weather while Mike hung up his jacket and put a large paper bag filled with diapers, blankets and bottles for Greg on the floor. Thomas watched Agnes and Sue retreat to the kitchen and chuckled.

"They get on like a house on fire, don't they," he remarked. "So what brings you three over here on a night like this? Need some groceries? Remember what I said, if you run out of anything, just let us know."

"Actually, Dad, we're here for a celebration," Mike explained, grinning. "Of sorts, anyway. One of the firms I applied to has shown interest in my work, and they want to interview me day after tomorrow."

"Hey, now, that's worth celebrating all right," Thomas agreed heartily, slapping Mike genially on the back. "Matter of fact, your mother's making her special meat loaf with all the trimmings, mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables. Fruit gelatin mold for dessert. Too bad Greg can't share it."

Mike laughed. "Maybe he can sit up past his bedtime, if he can stay awake that long. Anyway, Greg'll be eating Mom's cooking soon enough. No way am I letting my son grow up without his grandparents in his life. Let's go see how close it is to being done."

Agnes turned around when they came into the kitchen and grinned at them. "About time you guys showed up. Sue told me about the interview—that's wonderful, Mike, and I wish you the best of luck. Tom, dear, why don't you call Rick and Patricia down here, and they can hear the latest news too and have a chance to spoil their nephew here."

Patricia lifted a pair of crossed fingers when she heard the news of the interview; Rick peered at Mike with wide eyes, then said straight-faced, "So does that mean you'll be legit finally? Six years of education not going down the drain after all?"

"You mean like the way seven years of summer baseball camp went down the drain?" inquired Mike sweetly. Throughout his childhood Rick had made it known to any and all that he wanted to be a big-league star, and Thomas and Agnes had spent fairly considerable money on those camps for seven years running, till the summer he was preparing for his senior year in high school and suddenly decided baseball bored him and he preferred football.

Patricia snickered, and Rick shrugged with his usual "I don't care" mien. But he reddened and made no response, making his parents and Sue join in Patricia's glee at his expense. "Aw, come on," Rick protested.

"Come on, yourself," Thomas replied, chuckling. "Son, Mike's got a point. He's a lot more than a 'glorified artist', as you put it. We're not trying to humiliate you, we're just trying to make sure you realize that mocking your brother's accomplishments cuts two ways. You're not perfect either, y'know. Try to be optimistic for Mike's sake. When your turn comes, he'll return the favor."

Mike smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dad. Rick's comments were starting to get pretty tiresome."

"Mike'll be the best architect in southern California, and if Matthews & Phillips doesn't hire him, it's their loss and someone else's gain," Sue said loyally. "So I hope they're smart enough to see what they'll be getting in him."

Two days later Mike came home from the interview with his hands in his pockets, looking a little down. "Well," he said softly when Sue turned to look expectantly at him. "We talked awhile…I chatted with both Harry Matthews and Harry Phillips…and…"

"Aw, Mike," Sue murmured sympathetically.

Then he grinned mischievously and said, "I'm hired! Soon as I graduate, I start the following Monday. I'll be working under Harry Phillips. He seems like a more straitlaced type than Matthews does, but actually he comes across as a good guy. He clapped me on the shoulder and welcomed me to the firm, asked if I had a wife, and beamed like a searchlight when I told him about you and Greg. I think it's going to be a terrific working environment."

"Fantastic!" Sue cried, overjoyed, leaping into his embrace and making him stagger back a couple of steps, laughing. She laughed with him. "Now this really calls for a celebration. Let's…let's go out for dinner and even a movie! We could even hire a babysitter for Greg!"

"Awww…seems unfair to leave Greg out of it. After all, this job means he'll have a roof over his head, clothes to wear, good food to eat…what kid in his right mind wouldn't want to celebrate that? Right, Greg?" Mike added playfully, catching sight of their son sitting on a quilt in the corner of their secondhand sofa, looking on without expression, except to blink slowly every so often.

"Well, I guess you're right," Sue said and giggled. "Before we go, for heaven's sake call your parents and pass on the news. They'll be just as thrilled as I am."

"We can get ready to look for a bigger apartment this summer, too," said Mike. "A few years, some good budgeting and careful saving, and I think we might even be able to buy a house."

"That's fantastic," Sue said, bouncing in place from sheer joy. "I can't wait." She scooped up Greg from the quilt and twirled once or twice with the baby in her arms. Then, suddenly, she paused and said, "Hey, did you say you talked with both of them? Funny they're both named Harry."

"Yeah, I thought so too, and I mentioned it in passing," said Mike. "They've known each other since their college days. Since they have the same first name, they call each other 'Matt' and 'Phil'." Sue laughed, and he nodded, grinning. "That won't be my problem, though. Anyway, with an atmosphere like that, it should be a great place to work. I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

**A/N:** _Mr. Phillips and Mr. Matthews really were both named Harry. I knew I'd heard their first names somewhere, and I had a funny feeling they both were called Harry, but I was astonished when I watched some "Brady" episodes and found out I was right! The references come, respectively, from "Double Parked", season 2, and "The Hustler", season 5._


	4. Chapter 4

**CHANGE IS GOOD**

"I think I'm going to miss this place," Sue admitted, taping shut a box. "I don't mean that I'm sorry we're moving…after all, we need the space. Greg, sweetie, will you sit down for Mommy, please? That's my boy." She smiled approvingly at her wide-eyed two-year-old. "You're being a big help to Mommy and Daddy. Anyway…it's just that this is the first place we lived as a family, and it'll always have good memories for me."

"Nothing's wrong with remembering it," Mike said indulgently and stacked her box atop two others on a hand truck his parents had brought over. "We have pictures of it, so you get to go back and remember that way too. But this is a step up for us, honey."

"I know," Sue said patiently, "and believe me, I'm really excited. More than you can imagine." She grinned for some reason, then hefted Greg up from the toy box he was sitting on and bounced him on her hip. "Now you get to have your very own room, instead of being stuck in a corner of the living room!"

Mike, Sue and Greg were in the process of moving into a much larger apartment: this one had three bedrooms, and Mike had plans to turn one of them into a den for himself, where he could work on various plans and architectural drafts at home when necessary. He had been looking at secondhand drafting tables, hoping to find one at a decent price that wouldn't strain their budget. He was making more than enough money to support his wife and son, but he wanted eventually to either buy or build a house; therefore, he stuck to a stringent budget, and even had two separate savings accounts—one for emergencies or other incidentals, the other for the sole purpose of making a down payment on a house one day. All the extra cash he had each payday was split between these accounts, two-thirds in the house account and one-third in the emergency account. It was the latter that had enabled them to put the security deposit and first month's rent on their new, larger place.

Rick came in with Thomas right behind him. "Well, the women are in the car ready to go," Rick said, "and I guess these are the last of the boxes."

"Yes, thank heavens," Sue said cheerfully. "You've all been wonderful, you and my cousin. If everyone can stay, I'll treat all of you to a huge spaghetti dinner."

"You're on," Rick said immediately, lighting up.

"That does sound good," Thomas agreed, "and I know Agnes will appreciate a break from cooking, too. Gene just left, took a truckload of stuff over to the new place, so we'll meet him over there."

Outside, Greg's eyes grew round at the sight of the moving van. "See," he exclaimed in awe, pointing at it. "Big twuck."

"That's right, son," said Mike. "All our big furniture is in that. And you get to ride in it with Mommy and me!"

"Me wide in dat?" Greg asked, delighted. He promptly started squirming in Sue's arms. "Wanna get in, Mommy, wanna get in…"

Sue laughed and put him down, but held his hand. "I'll help you climb in, sweetie," she promised. "Come with me." She led Greg over to the van while the others dispersed to their vehicles—Thomas and Agnes' huge old Caddy and Rick's twenty-year-old rattletrap of a pickup—and got ready to leave.

Several hours later, with the most essential furniture set up and boxes of clothes and kitchen items unpacked and partially stored away, Sue served the group two huge bowls of spaghetti and another of meatballs, and took the time to cut the long strands and break up the meatballs on Greg's plate before settling down to her own meal. "This is going to be good," she said. "I'm actually hungry for a change."

"Huh?" The others stared at her and Mike looked alarmed. "What do you mean, 'for a change'?"

Sue blinked at the startled faces and then suddenly giggled sheepishly. "Oh my gosh. I meant to tell you all at this meal anyway, but I just got so involved in getting my kitchen organized, and then I had that slip of the tongue. Mike, you know I've been feeling a little funny in the mornings lately." At his nod, she went on, "I finally decided to go see the doctor, and he called me yesterday just before we disconnected the phone. We're going to have another baby!"

"Oh my gosh!" Patricia exclaimed in delight, and everyone began to congratulate Mike and Sue. Mike, for his part, blinked and then laughed a little, shaking his head.

"What's this gonna do to your budget, son?" Thomas teased.

"Not to mention that little sanctuary you've been planning," said Rick wickedly. "And daydreaming about, in front of Sue and everybody. Like you want to hide from your family."

"It's just that it's coming on a little quick, I suppose," Mike said. "First we move, now I find out I'm gonna be the father of two kids instead of just one. That's great, honey!"

Gene grinned. "I was a little bowled over when my wife told me she was expecting our second, too. But it's great, Mike. Greg and the little one can be pals, and he'll probably feel protective of the new baby."

"I hope you have a girl this time," Patricia put in. "That'd be just right, a boy and a girl."

"Baby?" asked Greg finally, staring bewildered at all the happy faces. "What dat?"

The family broke into laughter. "Sweetie, that means that you're going to have a little brother or a little sister," Sue explained. "You might even get to help me take care of the new baby."

Emphatically Greg shook his head, his wavy brown mop of hair swinging around his face. "No, no baby!" he announced decisively, making everyone laugh again.

"You'll get used to it, kiddo," Rick assured his nephew. "So Sue, are you telling your aunt?"

"Naturally," Sue said, "but I might wait a little while before I do. She has a habit of spoiling Greg, and I'm afraid we're going to find ourselves driven right out of our house by all the baby clothes and blankets and other stuff she'll shower us with when she finds out. I'd like to enjoy the space in here for a while first."

"Understandable," Agnes said, chuckling. "The same thing happened to me when I discovered I was pregnant with twins. I made the mistake of spreading the news around, and long before Rick and Patricia were born, we had stacks of baby blankets and mountains of little clothes for them. I could barely move around in the room we'd set aside for them, and I started having to stack things in the living room."

"Don't knock it, though," Thomas advised.

"That's right," Gene added. "The more people who're willing to heap blankets and clothes on you, the less you have to buy later. And when the kid outgrows them, there's always another expectant mother to pass it on to."

"Exactly. That's the wonderful thing about baby clothes. They usually get outgrown before they wear out. I used a lot of Mike's baby clothes for Rick, and I had the fun of picking out cute dresses for Patricia," said Agnes, smiling in remembrance. "I have to admit, having a granddaughter would be fun, too."

"Don't forget, Mom, if Sue and Mike have another boy, there's still Rick and me," Patricia said eagerly. She was now twenty-one and in her final year of college, and had recently been steadily seeing a young man named Gordon Dodge. "You have loads of time to become grandma to little girls."

"Don't count on me anytime soon," Rick warned, looking deadly serious. "I'm nowhere near ready to get married and all that garbage. Don't need any more trouble in my life."

Mike eyed him. "Oh yeah? How much trouble you got now?" Everyone laughed again, and for a while the family teased Rick, who took it well and often gave back as good as he got, especially to Mike and Patricia. Sue eventually produced a large chocolate cake with creamy vanilla frosting for dessert, and within another hour Greg was dozing off and the family was preparing to leave.

"I want that cake recipe," Patricia declared as she headed out the door with her parents and twin brother. "I know Gordon'd love it and I want to surprise him with it."

"I'll call you soon and give it to you," Sue promised, and waved after them as they left, then hugged her cousin in thanks and watched him go too before closing the door. She yawned loudly as she turned to gather up Greg and put him to bed for the night.

"Hey, hey, let me get him," Mike insisted, beating her to it and lifting Greg off the floor where he'd fallen asleep over a bunch of plastic toy trucks Rick had obligingly unpacked for him. "You're worn out, and now that you're expecting again, you'll need more sleep. Mom'll probably be glad to help out with Greg when you need it, so don't be afraid to ask her. And remember, Patricia's always happy to babysit—"

Sue stopped him, laughing softly. "Honey, I know, I know. Don't worry. I've been through it once before, remember? I know what to expect this time around. I'm already taking vitamins, and I guess I'd better start buying twice as much milk as usual, between Greg and this pregnancy. Oh, Mike, I think it's going to be fun, being mother to two. I really didn't want Greg to be an only child."

Mike shouldered his slumbering son and glanced wistfully toward the empty bedroom he'd planned to make his own. "Well, like Rick said, there goes my den," he remarked with a little sigh.

Sue patted his shoulder in mock sympathy. "Aw, poor baby," she crooned. "You'll get over it."

He grinned at her. "Yeah, I probably will. But you just wait—one day I'll get that den, whatever it takes. Another little piece of our future dream house just fell into place." He peered curiously at Sue. "But couldn't Greg and the baby share a room for a while?"

"Oh, honey…" Sue said. "I know you want that den, but we do have the room for a second child, and I see no reason to cram Greg and a baby in the same room if we don't have to. Besides, Greg would probably be awakened every night when the baby wakes up to be fed or changed, and having one sleepless child in the house is more than enough without deliberately setting it up for two of them."

Mike nodded. "Okay, I see your point," he conceded with good grace. "How long till the baby gets here?"

"I'm a little more than two months along," Sue said.

"Okay," Mike murmured, calculating as he carried Greg into his new room and settled him down in his crib. "So that gives us a little time. We can probably wait till around your sixth or seventh month to start setting up that room, and in the meantime we can store our empties in there till we can dispose of them, and maybe for just a while I can work in there if I get a card table…"

Sue giggled. "Always thinking like a busy architect, aren't you. Okay, okay, I won't argue with it. After all, that hard work pays a lot of dividends, and I'm very grateful for all you do to make sure Greg and I have a comfortable life. Greg and the new baby will appreciate it too, when they're old enough to understand."

"You're a peach, honey," Mike said, kissing her. "I really love you. If you want to start hunting for a card table and maybe a folding chair someplace, that'd be great. And I'll help you shop for a new baby crib."

"What about names?" Sue asked. "That's the most fun part of waiting for a baby."

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, we can do that, too. We have plenty of time, so we don't have to be in a hurry. Right now, let's hit the sack. I've got to work tomorrow, and you have lots of unpacking to do."

"Can't wait," Sue said contentedly. "I get to organize that wonderful kitchen, instead of having to stuff things in a little galley like the other place, and I can arrange our living room any way I like, and all these closets and storage spaces…what a dream." She sighed, patted her abdomen in an automatic, subconscious gesture that made Mike smile broadly, and then looked up at him with moist eyes. "I sure miss the old apartment," she admitted sadly.

He rolled his eyes and laughed, hugging her. "Pretty soon, you'll be having so much fun putting this place together, you'll forget all about the old one. Trust me, honey, we're gonna be happy here. Now let's get some sleep, it's been a long day."


	5. Chapter 5

**THE NEW KID ON THE BLOCK**

"I guess it's as ready as it's ever gonna get," Sue said with a soft sigh, surveying the bedroom with a critical eye. "What do you think, Pat?"

Patricia grinned. "It's really adorable. I'm glad you let me help you decorate, Sue, it's been such fun. I bet you're just about ready for the baby to get here." She peered at her sister-in-law's swollen abdomen.

"You can't even imagine," Sue groaned, reaching behind her and trying to massage her lower back. "My back's been spasming off and on ever since I woke up this morning, and I think I'm going to be permanently swaybacked. And the only time I've been more exhausted was right after I gave birth to Greg. If I have no energy now, how'm I ever going to push this kid out when the time comes?"

Patricia laughed. "You know, you're not giving me a whole lot of incentive to provide my parents with more grandkids," she warned teasingly.

Sue snickered, then winced at another twinge. "Ow. Well, think of it this way—they're worth it in the end. You have to go through an awful lot to get them, but one look at that little face and your heart just melts into a big mud puddle."

"I'll keep that in mind," Patricia joked. "How's Greg taking it?"

"Oh, he seems to be used to the idea that he's about to be a big brother. He's constantly patting my tummy, waiting for the baby to kick or something."

"Does he miss your lap?" Patricia asked, grinning.

Sue snorted, "What lap?" and Patricia burst out laughing. "They say I'm going to get it back soon, but I've been having my doubts lately. And I can't remember what my feet look like anymore. Mike said once that if it's twins, he's going to insist that you and Gordon adopt one."

"We're not even married yet," Patricia exclaimed, startled but still laughing. About a month before, just around the time Greg had celebrated his third birthday, Patricia had accepted Gordon's marriage proposal, and showed off her engagement ring to anyone she met. "I think Gordon might take some exception to that, and besides, the doctor would've told you long since if it really was twins."

"Oh , you know Mike…terrible tease," Sue said, and then groaned again. "These pains are really getting on my nerves. Oh…oh…owwwwww!!" She clutched her outsized gut and tipped forward in pain, instinctively doubling up, and as a result nearly losing her balance. Patricia sprang forward and caught her before she fell. "Th-thanks," Sue panted as the pain subsided.

"Are you okay?" Patricia asked anxiously.

"I might…be in labor," Sue admitted, still breathing a little hard. "I recognize the signs, but I didn't want to worry Mike, so I didn't say anything."

"_I_ don't mind worrying Mike," Patricia announced stridently. "If it's labor, then I'm going to drive you to the hospital and then call him and tell him. Let me call Mom and have her come and stay with Greg." She hurried out to the phone to make the call while Sue waddled more slowly into the living room, glancing into Greg's room on the way. Greg was in the midst of his afternoon nap, a little ritual for which Sue was still glad, since it gave her a little time to herself. Agnes had shown her how to knit and she had been working on a blanket for the new baby, after making one for Greg. Just because she hadn't known how to knit when she was pregnant with Greg didn't mean she wanted to shortchange him.

Patricia finished the call and turned to Sue. "Mom's on her way, and as soon as she gets here, we'll go. You should call your doctor."

"Right," Sue gasped and started for the phone, but stumbled, and Patricia took her arm and supported her across the room. The phone call lasted only a minute or two, fortunately, for Sue had never felt so out of breath before. "I hope…everything…will be…okay."

"It has to be," Patricia said firmly. There was a sense of urgency in her voice that Sue picked up on; she might have wondered about it if she'd had more energy. As it was, it was all she could do to stay on her feet. Patricia hovered nearby, an anxious grimace on her face the whole time.

When Agnes got there, Patricia seemed to relax, and Sue felt oddly better too. "Oh yes, dear, you're definitely in labor. I was just as out of breath with Mike as you are with this one. Go ahead and take her down to the hospital, Patricia, and I'll call Mike and let him know."

"Thanks, Mom," Sue and Patricia said together, and Sue leaned on Patricia all the way down to the little car she had bought with some carefully hoarded savings. It wasn't new, but to Sue it looked like a grand chariot. "Pat, you're a lifesaver. Maybe literally."

Patricia only smiled and pulled the passenger door open, helping Sue get in. "Try to get as comfy as you can," she said. "We'll be there soon. Which hospital are you going to?"

Sue told her, and in about fifteen minutes they were there and Sue was getting registered. Her doctor and Mike appeared at about the same moment, just as she was being taken upstairs, and Mike stared at his sister in disbelief. "You got her down here?"

"Why are you so shocked?" demanded Patricia. "I can drive, I know my way around, and I'm every bit as capable as you or Rick or any other man. Ooooohhh…you have no idea how many times I've wished either you or Rick had been born female!!" She favored him with a brief glare and began to pace the waiting room while Mike blinked at her.

"Hey, I didn't mean to put you down," he said a little weakly, trying to make amends. "I'm just…surprised, I guess."

Patricia spun on him. "You wouldn't have been half as surprised if it had been Rick or Dad, would you. Oh, you just wait till I tell Sue about this. She'll bean you, if she's got enough strength after having that baby."

Mike decided he was better off cutting his losses before he dug himself in any deeper, and turned away from her to consult with the doctor. "What did they tell you?" he asked.

"Your wife merely notified me that she was in labor and that your sister was bringing her here. Don't worry, Mr. Brady, she'll be fine. It'll be just like the first time with Greg. How's that young man, by the way? Must be healthy, or I'd have seen him long ago."

Mike grinned. "He's getting big. Eats like a hippo and talks up a storm. I think he's looking forward to getting this new sibling of his. At least, he'll be glad to be able to sit in Sue's lap again."

The doctor laughed. "Sounds terrific. Give us a chance and we'll produce another one just like him. Why don't you sit down and relax, Mr. Brady, and we'll keep you notified of any changes."

This time, happily, Sue's labor was a good bit shorter than with Greg; Mike and Patricia had been there only a bit over five hours when the doctor reappeared, looking very pleased. "Congratulations, Mr. Brady, it's a boy. Five pounds thirteen ounces, and he's got as healthy a set of lungs as his brother did."

"Well, I'll be…another boy, huh?" Mike grinned from ear to ear; Patricia smiled gamely, though he could see the wistful disappointment in his sister's eyes. After her little diatribe about his or Rick's not having been a girl, he knew full well what it was about. "Don't worry, Pat, if we have another one, maybe third time'll be the charm."

"Oh well," Patricia said with a little shrug and a wider smile. "Maybe _I'll_ get to have girls. Meantime, if you want to go up and see Sue and the new little guy, I'll call Mom and Dad and let them know."

On the way up, Mike peered at the doctor. "This one's not as heavy as Greg was. Is that a good weight?"

"He's a little small, but he's not underweight. Babies come in all sizes," the doctor said encouragingly. "No reason on earth the little guy can't be just as hale and hearty as Greg. He's a tad over fifteen inches long, good color, let out a nice loud screech when he came out, just like his brother. You seem to have a pair of very vocal boys there."

"Well, Greg's definitely a talker," said Mike good-naturedly, "and I guess this one will be too. I'd better double-check with Sue on his name, before I tell anyone else."

Sue was awake this time, though her face was pinched with weariness and she was noticeably pale. "Hi, honey, how you feeling?" Mike asked softly, settling down beside her hospital bed.

"Okay," Sue murmured, "considering I just turned myself inside out." Mike chuckled, and she managed a smile. "I feel more tired than when I had Greg, but they say the baby's healthy, so I'm glad for that."

"You want to give him the name we agreed on?" Mike asked.

Sue nodded weakly. "Yes, Peter Thomas Brady. I always liked the name Peter, and since we honored my dad with Greg, I felt your father should get equal time."

"Good, honey, good. Okay, you get some sleep now, you hear? I want to be sure you're all rested up for when Peter comes home. Patricia's calling everybody now."

"She's still here? I'd have thought she'd leave when you came in," Sue observed, surprised.

"I was a little startled when I realized she'd brought you here, but she had a fit and said she was just as capable as Dad or Rick would've been. Thought you'd bean me if you found out."

"I should," Sue muttered threateningly, and Mike snickered. "Michael Paul Brady, for shame. I hope you don't instill those attitudes in our boys."

"You're not likely to let me," Mike retorted, and she stuck out her tongue at him, making him laugh again. "Listen, honey, get some rest, okay? I'll take care of all the paperwork and stuff. I just want you strong again. When you're more up to it, they'll bring Peter in so you can see him."

"When I'm up to it," Sue mumbled sleepily. "Next time, Michael Brady, you're having the baby instead of me." Her head lolled to the side and she was asleep.

"Fat chance," Mike murmured, grinning widely, and left the hospital room to get a look at his second son. This time he spotted the placard BABY BOY BRADY on a crib toward the back of the little room housing the newborns, and could make out little more than a lump of blue blanket and a tiny balled-up fist next to a half-covered head with a swirl of dark hair. He caught the attention of the nurse on duty and indicated the crib in question as best he could; she started for the wrong baby twice before she finally realized which one he wanted, and lifted out the blue bundle and brought it to him.

"Sound asleep," the nurse said. "He didn't cry very much, just a few little wails when he was first born and then right off to sleep. You can hold him if you like."

Mike accepted the baby and watched the nurse fold back the blanket to expose the infant's face. There were bare wisps of eyebrows over the closed lids, and the mouth slowly pursed and relaxed in regular cadence as the baby slept. Mike, who was much more sanguine about holding babies now that he'd had practice with Greg, carefully shifted the baby so that he was supporting him with one arm, in order to gingerly prod at the tightly closed little fist with one finger. He managed to touch the palm of his new son's hand, and like magic the fingers splayed long enough for Mike to slip his own in and watch those tiny digits close firmly around it in reflex.

"Welcome to the family, Peter Thomas Brady," he said softly. "Your mom's asleep in the other room there, I'm your dad, and you have a big brother waiting at home, named Greg. Plus you'll have grandparents, an aunt and uncle, and lots of other relatives and friends waiting to meet you too."

"Oh, he isn't your first, then," the nurse commented, watching.

"No, and thank heaven. I was nervous enough when Greg was born. I think it'll be easier with Peter here, now that I've had some experience." Mike gently stroked the pad of his thumb over Peter's fingers, which remained securely wrapped around his. He was going to enjoy having two boys, there was no question about that. He glanced at the floor once, as though he could see through it to where Patricia was notifying his and Sue's families, and grinned suddenly. Just to be fair, if he and Sue decided to try for a third child, he would hope for a girl so Sue wouldn't be so vastly outnumbered; but he would readily admit to a certain male pride in being the father of two sons. Softly he patted Peter's fingers with his thumb, feeling about as lucky as a man could ever get.


	6. Chapter 6

**SUE AND HER MENFOLK**

Sue was feeding six-week-old Peter his bottle, smiling tiredly down at the baby, when she felt a tugging on her sleeve and found herself looking into the pensive face of three-year-old Greg. "Mommy?" he began.

"Something wrong, honey?" Sue asked indulgently.

"How come Peter doesn't play with me?" Greg wanted to know.

Sue grinned. "Right now he's too little to play. You were just like that when you were a baby. Peter has to get a little bigger and a little stronger first. I know it'll seem like a long time, but one day he'll be able to play with you."

Greg thought about that for a couple of minutes. Then he looked up at her in bewilderment and asked in disbelief, "How do you be too little to play?"

Sue laughed at his fractured grammar and winked at him. "That's the way all babies start out, son," she assured him. "Remember? I said you were just the same way as a baby."

Greg considered that too, then seemed to accept it and climbed onto the sofa beside her. "Can Peter have some of my lunch?" he asked.

"He's too little for that, too," Sue explained patiently. "Right now, Peter's so little that his tummy can't handle anything except milk. And did you see? He doesn't have any teeth yet, so he can't chew food like you and me and Daddy."

"No teeth?" Greg asked in astonishment.

"That's right. He'll get some teeth in a few months, but right now, he hasn't got any at all."

"Wow," the little boy uttered, amazed. Sue giggled softly and looked down at Peter, who blinked up at her and began amiably shifting his legs in her lap. Then Greg asked, "Mommy, why does Peter smell bad all the time?"

Sue started to laugh, unable to help herself any longer. "You did that too, Greg," she assured him. "He smells like that sometimes because he has to have his diaper changed."

Greg eyed his baby brother, then leaned down and took a big, loud sniff next to Peter's head. Peter went on kicking, seeming not to notice. "He smells okay now," Greg decided, sitting back up.

"He had a bath this morning, that's why," Sue said. She could hardly wait to tell Mike about this little conversation. Too bad Greg wouldn't remember it when he got older!

"Did his other end get a bath too?" asked Greg in all seriousness, and Sue broke down into giggles again, nodding. Greg seemed satisfied with that and jumped off the sofa to play with some of his toy trucks, and Sue grinned down at Peter, lifting him up enough so she could plant a kiss on the baby's forehead. She felt better already, more able to face the day; her boys had a way of replenishing her energy, all right.

‡ ‡ ‡

By the time Peter was six months old, he had three teeth and another one on the way in. Mike examined his younger son's gums, making Sue think of an equestrian checking out a horse's teeth. "He's got two more teeth than Greg did at this age," Mike observed.

"The doctor told me every baby develops at his own pace," said Sue serenely, folding laundry. Fully half of it belonged to Peter; the baby went through almost half a dozen outfits every day, between his drooling, the milk and strained food that got spilled all over him, and the more-than-occasional leaky diaper. "Peter might get up and start walking earlier than Greg did. He certainly got himself born a lot faster…thankfully." She smiled ruefully at the memories of her sons' respective births, and Mike peered at her with mild concern, gathering Peter up and sitting him on his lap facing forward.

"You were more worn out after Peter came than you were with Greg," he recalled, making Sue pause and look up. "Patricia had fits about my apparent inability to believe that women could handle the process of childbirth without a man around, but the fact remains, you were really knocked out."

Sue let her gaze drop to the half-folded pajama set in her lap, well remembering her unusual fatigue in the first few hours after Peter was born. Not for the first time, she wished her mother were alive for her to talk to. Agnes was wonderful, and Sue felt very much at ease with Mike's mother; but there were some times when a woman just needed to connect with her own mom. Finally she looked up at Mike. "Yeah, I remember how tired I was," she said slowly. "But maybe that's normal too. I mean, the doctors didn't say anything about it. Maybe they see that level of tiredness all the time. Let's face it, Mike, giving birth is an exhausting process."

"Oh, I won't argue with that. But it took you two days to find enough strength to get out of bed," Mike protested, gently bouncing Peter on his knees. The baby gurgled delightedly, making both Mike and Sue grin at him briefly before Mike's attention refocused on his wife.

"Well, I haven't had that problem since then," said Sue, feeling stubborn. "I feel perfectly normal and just fine, thank you. There's no reason to think that it has to do with anything except using up all my energy bringing our son into the world. Mike, please. I know you're concerned, and I appreciate it, really. I just wish you…you'd…you wouldn't _hover."_

Mike stilled and stared at her, looking surprised and slightly guilty all at once. "Am I hovering?"

"Well, it seems that way. That's at least the third time you've brought it up since Peter was born." Sue resumed folding clothes. "Have I seemed unusually tired to you since we brought him home from the hospital? Do you think there's been a problem with my taking care of two little boys and running the household at the same time? Be honest with me, Mike, please."

"Well…no," said Mike hesitantly. "I guess I haven't really seen anything out of the ordinary. But I can't stop wondering. Maybe I'm just worrying for no good reason." He considered telling her about Patricia's observations. The day after Peter's birth, the other Bradys had come to visit and to meet the newest family member, and Patricia had commented worriedly on Sue's lack of color and energy. _"She seems limp, like a rag doll or something. She speaks so softly, turns her head slowly, and the nurse has to help her sit up so she can hold Peter."_ Was it just Patricia being an alarmist, or should he really worry?

"What's wrong, honey?" Sue asked.

Mike glanced at her, frowned, bounced Peter a couple more times, then sighed and gave in, telling her what Patricia had said that day. Sue listened with wide eyes, and when he finished, she blinked, pulling both lips in between her teeth. "I see," she mumbled after a moment.

"Now I grant you, my sister can see trouble where it doesn't exist," Mike said, "so at the time I didn't think too much about it. But, well…I don't know, I've just had this feeling. I guess it's because you sleep like the dead every night."

"Because caring for two small boys, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and shopping for groceries and clothes is tiring," Sue retorted. "I'll bet I'm not the only mother of small children who sleeps like the dead every night. Mike, please, don't read so much into this. Patricia can find a storm cloud on a sunny day, you just made a remark to that effect yourself." She paused and studied him. "You certainly come home from work tired on a lot of days. Something going on at work? Is Mr. Phillips keeping an eagle eye on you for some reason?"

Mike had to laugh at that. "Well, Mr. Phillips seems happy enough with my work, so he isn't the problem. I do have a couple of pretty big projects that I'm working on with some other guys right now, though, so that's taking a lot out of me at the moment. I guess I get the message, honey. All right, I'll stop making a mountain out of a molehill. It's just that I love you, and I want us to be a happy, healthy family."

"I know, sweetheart, and I appreciate everything you do for us. The bottom line here is that we're just two busy, tired parents, that's all." Sue grinned.

"Yup, sounds like that to me too," Mike agreed, bouncing Peter again. The baby squealed and both parents began to laugh; even Greg looked up from his picture book and giggled too.

‡ ‡ ‡

Sue had been reading nursery rhymes to her sons, now four and one; Peter was content to listen, but Greg kept butting in and asking questions, the sort of questions only a four-year-old can dream up. Of _Mary Had a Little Lamb_, he asked, "What did the lamb learn in school?" Of _Little Jack Horner_: "If Jack was a good boy, how come he was sittin' in the corner?" Of _The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe_: "Mommy, how many kids fit in a shoe?" And of _Old King Cole_: "Was he older than you?"

Then Sue got around to _Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater_, and Greg stared at his little brother in amazement. "Oh wow, Mommy. Peter really eats punkins?"

Sue began to laugh helplessly, wishing Mike could afford a reel-to-reel tape recorder so she could preserve Greg's crazy questions for posterity (_and future blackmail,_ she added with secret glee). "No, honey, that rhyme isn't about our Peter. It's about another Peter who lived a long time ago."

Greg frowned. "Do punkins taste good?"

"Sure they do," said Sue, "but not all by themselves. You like pumpkin pie, right? Pumpkins go into that." She was stretching the definition a bit, but he was only four, after all.

"So you moosh up Halloween punkins into strained food like Peter use'ta eat, and then you mix 'em up in a pie and put 'em in the oven?" Greg wanted to know.

"Well, you put other things in with them," Sue clarified. "Like milk, and sugar, and eggs, and sweet spices, so that the pumpkin mush tastes good."

"Oh. So Peter Peter Punkin Eater was really eating punkin pie," Greg announced, with the certainty that he'd solved the whole puzzle. "Then they oughta say that in the rhyme, Mommy. If it says he just eats punkins, then that's tellin' a lie, and Daddy says lyin's real, real bad."

"And Daddy's right, son," Sue agreed, nodding firmly. "That's very smart of you to remember that."

"So he musta ate punkin pie, right?" her son persisted.

"Maybe he did." Sue grinned at him. "But 'pumpkin pie' didn't fit the rhyme and it would've sounded funny, so maybe that's why they just wrote 'pumpkin' instead."

A few days later Sue took the boys out to the park so Greg could run off some energy and Peter could play in a sandbox with a few other small children. Sue got to talking with a couple of other mothers who lived in their apartment complex, and thus occasionally glanced over at Peter and all but forgot to watch Greg. It wasn't till the little daughter of one of Sue's friends appeared and announced, "Mommy, there's Halloween punkins right over there, all smashed up," that she suddenly looked around and realized Greg wasn't in sight. Her friends looked around too.

"A pumpkin patch, Donna?" asked the mother of the girl.

Donna nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. 'Cept there's no punkins in it, just _pieces_ of punkins. And the boys were _eatin'_ 'em!" She made a revolted face that caused her mother to laugh.

But Sue sat up straight. "Point to the pumpkins, Donna, will you?"

The girl turned and pointed to a field some fifty yards away from the edge of the playground, and sure enough, four or five little boys were standing around, overturning mysterious orange chunks. At least two of them were indeed poking bits into their mouths, and to Sue's horror, one of them was Greg.

"Oh, no. Joanie, could you keep an eye on my Peter for a couple seconds while I get my son? Peter's in the sandbox," she said, and another woman nodded agreement. Sue ran to the edge of the playground and grabbed Greg's hand. "Gregory Joseph Brady, what in the world are you doing?"

"Bein' Peter Peter Punkin Eater," said Greg, staring at his mother in surprise.

Carefully Sue swallowed back a renegade giggle. It would never do to laugh and make Greg think she thought it was funny, even if it was. "Not a good idea," she said firmly, leading him back to the playground. "Those pumpkins are all over the ground, and they have nasty things on them…dirt and germs and bugs. Don't ever eat anything that's fallen on the ground, because it'll make you very sick."

"But punkins taste good, Mommy," Greg protested, to her sheer astonishment. "So maybe Peter Peter Punkin Eater really was eatin' punkins in that story. Maybe not as yummy as punkin pie, but they taste good. _I_ like 'em anyway. I ate…" He tried to count on his fingers. "One, two, four, five, six, eight, two, four…well, lots of pieces."

"Oh, Greg," Sue groaned, disbelieving.

Sure enough, by the time Mike got home from work, Greg was a very sick little boy. He'd already thrown up three times; all the pumpkin he'd ingested came up the first time, but his stomach didn't seem satisfied that it had purged itself and kept sending him back to the bathroom for more vomiting episodes. The pediatrician had advised that she give him a little water and some children's aspirin, then send him to bed and wait till morning before trying to give him anything to eat. Mike was surprised to find Greg already asleep for the night. "What happened?"

"I took the boys to the playground, and somehow Greg and some little friends of his found some smashed pumpkins and were eating pieces off the ground," Sue said, shaking her head. "And the strangest part was, he says he likes raw pumpkin. Can you believe that?"

Mike blinked, then started to grin. "Interesting."

"Mike, it's not funny," Sue scolded, exasperated. "He's very sick…already threw up three times."

"Then he should be fine in the morning," Mike said, chuckling helplessly. "Boys will be boys, honey. Did the doctor sound worried?"

"No," admitted Sue and explained the instructions she'd been given. "But…"

He put his briefcase on the floor and gathered her into his arms. "Look at it this way, honey. Once he's back to his old self again, we'll have a great story to tell the family. And who knows, he'll probably grow up to love squash."

"Oh, Mike," Sue groaned, but she finally started to laugh too. She could always trust her husband to put things back in perspective. She hugged him, happier than ever that she was his wife and the mother of his sons.


	7. Chapter 7

**OUR NEW HOUSE**

"Sue, Sue, have I got a surprise for you and the boys!" sang out Mike, practically dancing through the door one evening. "We are _ready!"_

"Ready for what?" Sue asked, half grinning because Mike's delight was catching.

"What's the surprise, Daddy?" Greg asked eagerly.

"Ready to buy a house!" Mike announced grandly, beaming like a full moon. "Anytime you like, we can start looking! The market's pretty good right now, and just coming home from work I saw some nice prospects. Greg, Peter, how would you guys like a whole yard to play in, all your own?"

"Wow!" Greg exclaimed.

"Sam'bots, Daddy!" Peter demanded, jumping up and down. He was almost two, and Greg would soon be starting kindergarten. Sue had been feeling tired and achy in the mornings, and lately nausea had joined the mix. But right now she was feeling good, better in fact because of Mike's announcement, and her sons' enthusiasm was contagious. Peter loved to play in the sandbox in the park near their current apartment, so it was no surprise he wanted one in their future new yard.

"We'll get you a sandbox, don't worry, Pete," Mike promised, ruffling the little boy's hair. Peter had wound up with Sue's brown eyes, to his delight. "First we have to get the yard to put it in."

"I hope we can find a place in this school district," Sue said. "Greg's already registered for kindergarten at the Clinton Avenue school."

"Then we'll see what we can find around here," Mike agreed. "We'll look on weekends when I don't have to work, and if you want, you can take the boys for drives around here and see what's up for sale that you like." He grinned hopefully. "Maybe now I can finally have a room for a den."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," said Sue, chuckling. "I can't wait."

"How's the achy feeling?" Mike asked, peering more closely at her. "Did you get an appointment with the doctor, like I keep telling you to?"

Sue smiled tolerantly. "Yes, you nag," she assured him with affection. "I finally went ahead and set one up, because the last few days I've been feeling sick to my stomach too. I'd like to know what's going on."

Mike nodded, satisfied. "Good, honey. I just want to be sure you're all right, and feeling well enough to enjoy our house-hunting." He grinned and she returned it.

Suddenly Greg asked, "Daddy, know what I want more than anything?"

"What, son?" Mike inquired indulgently.

"A dog. When we get a house and a yard, can we have a dog too? Me and Peter'll play outside with him every day so he gets lots of fresh air an' exercise. Mommy says that's important."

"Mommy's right, and that's 'Peter and I', not 'me and Peter'," Mike corrected with a smile. "Well, once we find a house and get settled into it, we'll think about getting a dog. Right now, let's see what your mom's got on the table for supper."

That weekend, Mike, Sue, Greg and Peter set out on their first house-hunting excursion, along with a real-estate agent named Bert Grossman, some ten years older than Mike and Sue with square horn-rimmed glasses and touches of gray dotting his thinning hair. He shook hands with Greg and patted Peter on the back, and the family felt comfortable with him right away. They looked at six houses that day, taking a break for lunch; and at the end of the day they had two they wanted to get another look at. However, Mike preferred one and Sue the other, and Bert suggested they try another batch of houses the next day and see if they could find something the two could agree on.

The houses they looked at on Sunday were as nice as the first six, but again they couldn't quite agree, and by lunchtime everyone had an opinion—even Peter. One house had had a sandbox in the backyard and he had insisted they move in then and there, making the adults all laugh. Even Greg had said, "We can't move in yet, dopey. The other people have to move out first, and then we take over."

But the comic relief had been short-lived, and now they were sitting inside a McDonald's, sating their hunger in the most convenient way available and trying to decide what to do next. Mike had been quiet for the most part, drumming his fingers on the table occasionally. Greg had informed Bert several times that a yard was very important, because they intended to get a dog. Peter, of course, kept repeating "Sam'bots, sam'bots." Sue was hoping for more storage space for linens and towels, as well as a coat closet for anyone who came to visit, and thought a basement would be nice for the boys to play in on rainy days.

Bert took all this in with remarkable patience, then looked at Mike. "You haven't volunteered an opinion yet. Is there something you'd like in a new home?"

"I don't know if I should mention it," Mike said, glancing at his wife and sons. "I'm not sure there's a house out there that'll have everything everybody wants."

Sue looked startled, then bit her lip. "We can compromise," she said. "I can give up some things I like. I mean…we don't have to have a basement, or a coat closet for guests…"

Mike reached over and patted her hand. "Honey, you shouldn't have to give all that up, if you really want it."

Sue smiled and turned to Bert. "Mike's been dreaming of having a room all his own, one he can turn into a den so he can do drafting work at home if he needs to. We had thought an extra bedroom would do the trick, and Mike was going to outfit the spare bedroom in our apartment like that, till we found out we were expecting Peter here."

Bert grinned. "Well, you're an architect, Mike, aren't you? Have you ever thought about building your own house, to your own specifications? All you'd have to worry about buying then is a good lot, and we have plenty of land for sale."

"That's a dream that'll have to wait a few years, I think," Mike admitted wistfully. "I'd like nothing better, but I'd need to set aside some more money first."

"But he's moving up fast at Matthews & Phillips," Sue interjected proudly.

"Oh yes, Matthews & Phillips. We deal with them a good bit," Bert said, nodding. "They're a good firm. Well, listen, we can call it quits for today, and you two can talk it over and let me know what you decide to do. How does that sound?"

"That might be best," Mike agreed.

"Well," Sue hedged, glancing nervously back and forth between the two men, "I do want to go back and see the fourth house we looked at yesterday. Is it open, Bert?"

"Yes, actually," Bert said. "That would be the one on Sweet William Drive, wouldn't it?"

Sue nodded. "That's it. It's farther out than the others, but it's still in the school district, and I really did like that bay window in the living room. It would be a lovely place to put up a Christmas tree."

"There are only three bedrooms," Bert said, glancing at Mike.

"But it has a formal dining room," Sue said before Mike could speak. "Who in the world needs a formal dining room? The kitchen in that house is huge, isn't it? There'd be plenty of space to put in a dining table and enough room even for Thanksgiving get-togethers. Mike, you could use the formal dining room as your den."

Mike thought about that for a moment, his expression morphing almost comically as he pondered the idea. Then he grinned at Sue. "Actually, honey, that sounds great. Okay, Bert, why don't we check out that one again, and if everything looks good, we'll make a bid."

Bert looked very surprised. "After just two days of looking? What's the hurry?"

Sue grinned. "Oh, well, Mike's younger sister and her husband are expecting their first baby, and we told them we'd let them have our current apartment when we move. They're so cramped in their little studio space now, I hate to dawdle and make them wait any longer. Let's finish lunch, honey, and then we can go look at the place and find out if it's our next dream house."

After lunch they drove back to a cul-de-sac called Sweet William Way, which contained half a dozen houses. The one they had in mind was a ranch with a fenced-in backyard, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a one-car garage with a finished extra room in the basement. Mike lingered longest in the dining-room area, mentally mapping out the work space he wanted to create, while Greg and Peter chased each other through the kitchen and living room in circles and Sue explored the basement room.

Finally Sue came back upstairs and corralled Greg and Peter into a standstill, then focused on Mike. "So what do you think, honey?"

Mike blinked and came back to the present, caught Sue's grin and Bert's expectant look, and chuckled. "I didn't realize this dining area was as big as this. Where'd you go?"

"Downstairs. There's a really nice little room next to the garage with a tiny bathroom off it—it might make a really sweet guest bedroom. I love this place, and naturally the backyard will be perfect for the boys to play in. I think we could even find room for a sandbox."

"Yeah, sam'bots, sam'bots," Peter chanted happily.

"What do you think, son?" Mike asked.

"There's room for all kinds of things, Daddy. A swingset and a teeter-totter and Peter's sandbox…and a doghouse too!" Greg said hopefully.

Mike looked one last time around the dining room and grinned. "Well, I think it's unanimous, then. Looks like we'll be going for this one, Bert. When can we start taking care of the paperwork?"

"Right now, if you want," Bert said, grinning back.

"Yahoo!" Greg cheered, and Peter began jumping up and down. Sue beamed, and Mike hugged her. His ultimate dream house might have to wait a while yet, but he was content; he was providing everything he could for his family, and that was good enough for him.


	8. Chapter 8

**A SCARE AND A SURPRISE FOR SUE**

Sue's doctor's appointment fell in the middle of their frantic packing. The owners of their new house had long since vacated and had been desperate to sell, so they'd leaped at Mike's first offer, despite Bert's advice to the contrary. Closing was tentatively scheduled for two weeks away, and in the meantime Sue had been trying her utmost to get their belongings packed, in between keeping tabs on her sons and trying to pamper her increasingly irritated stomach. Every night she was so exhausted that she slept like the dead, yet she was still tired when she awoke in the mornings, and her joints tended to ache.

So it was a relief when she could leave Greg and Peter with their aunt Patricia, who was six months pregnant and able to commiserate somewhat with Sue's aches and pains, and head for the doctor. Her examination lasted well over an hour, which began to worry her immensely, and when the doctor finally returned to her after she'd gotten dressed again, she said, "Please, just come out with it. I know there must be something going on, or it never would have taken this long."

"Well," the doctor said a little reluctantly, "I have good news and bad news. First the good news: you're expecting a baby, and you look to be about nine weeks along."

"Oh my goodness," said Sue, astonished, and then laughing at herself. "I should have known, after having two of them already. I guess I've just been so distracted with my other physical troubles, and now packing to move into our new house…" She saw the doctor's look. "What is it?"

"My preliminary tests indicate…" The doctor cleared his throat. "Mrs. Brady, it looks as if you may be in the early stages of bone cancer."

Suddenly Sue understood the phrase "she reeled": the room seemed to tilt slightly around her, and there was a faint roaring in her ears. She blinked repeatedly and curled her hands around the edges of the examination table. "Cancer," she muttered. "I should have known that too."

"Pardon me?" the doctor asked softly.

"My mother," Sue said. "She died of cancer." The words gave her a small shock and she stared at the doctor with wide, pleading eyes. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"Not if we can help it. In any case, it's not quite confirmed," the doctor told her in a stronger voice. "We have to wait for the results of some of the tests to be certain, but if it turns out you actually do have cancer, there are treatments we can begin right away without endangering your baby. You'll have the best possible care, and that little guy or gal will be born healthy and happy. Of course, Mrs. Brady, your own attitude throughout all this will be a big factor in determining the success of your pregnancy and the treatments."

Sue nodded, still feeling a little dazed. "I understand," she mumbled, though she was only half listening. The last thing she wanted to do was die and leave her boys motherless and Mike widowed, as her own mother had with her and her father. She drew in several slow, deep breaths. She had to be strong; she was now responsible for the proper development of a third little Brady, and she was determined to bring this child into the world strong and healthy, even if she herself wasn't.

**‡ ‡ ‡**

She didn't tell Mike right away. After all, the doctor had said they needed to wait for the results of certain tests, and who knew but that it was a false alarm? She did, though, deliver the news that their family was to be enlarged once again, and Mike had to laugh. "Even if I had been able to make a den out of a spare bedroom, we wouldn't have the spare bedroom," he said.

"There's always the cellar room…" Sue began.

"No, no, you were right, that's a guest room. It's okay, we'll manage. If it's a girl, Peter can move in with Greg, and if it's a boy, he can move into Peter's room. Don't worry, honey, okay? Just think about our great new house and all the decorating you could never do in the apartments we've been renting."

Sue smiled. "True. I'm really looking forward to that."

By the time Sue was three months pregnant, they had moved into their new home, and within a week of their arrival Mike brought home a ten-week-old puppy. "A dog!" shouted Greg, overjoyed.

"Doggie!" Peter echoed, jumping up and down and clapping his hands.

"What's his name going to be?" Sue asked.

"Doggie," Peter shouted. "Here, doggie, doggie, doggie." The puppy wriggled madly in Mike's grasp.

"We can't name him 'Doggie,' dummy," Greg scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Mike mused, "When we were kids, we never got to have a dog because Patricia had allergies, but my best friend had a dog that I got to play with a lot. That dog's name was Tiger. What about that?"

"Yeah, Tiger sounds good," Greg said, after a moment's thought.

"Digah, Digah," Peter chanted, reaching for the squirming pup. "Here, Digah." Mike finally put the dog down, and the puppy promptly squatted on the floor, stepped aside and left a puddle, and then leaped all over Peter, who was shrieking with laughter.

"I guess we've got ourselves a dog," said Sue with a resigned laugh, going to the sink for some paper towels. The idea of caring for an energetic pup that needed house-training was a little daunting, but not for anything on earth would she trade the shiny-eyed looks of joy on her sons' faces now that they had the dog they'd been hoping for.

**‡ ‡ ‡**

Sue was midway through her pregnancy before the last of the tests finally came back. "It's not cancer at all, Mrs. Brady," the doctor said, smiling widely. "Muscle fatigue and overwork, that's all."

"That's it?" Sue exclaimed, sagging with the force of her relief. "Oh my gosh, I can't tell you how much better I feel all of a sudden."

"Well, slow down a little, Mrs. Brady," said the doctor. "As I said, it's muscle fatigue, undoubtedly caused by overwork. You're a stay-at-home mother, of course, aren't you? Between caring daily for those two young boys of yours, trying to house-train their puppy, and being pregnant, you're overextending yourself. Is there anyone you know who could help you?"

Sue frowned. "I don't know…my in-laws recently bought a camping trailer and they're planning to do a big tour around the country starting next month. My sister-in-law's about to have her own baby, my brother-in-law doesn't know the first thing about housekeeping or child care…my aunt is in frail health herself, and ten minutes with my boys just wears her right out. I don't know, I don't think there's anyone who can spare the time."

The doctor nodded. "Well, talk with your husband about it, and toss around some ideas. Just try to keep the work to as much of a minimum as you can. You can see the receptionist for your next appointment."

At supper that evening Sue related to Mike what the doctor had told her, and Mike listened with a slight frown. When she finished, he sat silent for a moment while Sue spent a couple of minutes tending to Greg's and Peter's meals; then he snapped his fingers. "I've got an idea. If your health and well-being is contingent on lightening your workload, then let's hire a housekeeper."

Sue's mouth dropped open. "A housekeeper! My God, Mike, can we actually afford one?"

"Honey, I'm doing just fine," Mike assured her. "Mr. Phillips gave me a glowing review last month and I got another raise. I know you've been tired, and you can't go on the way you're doing. Even if it isn't cancer, I don't want you trying to do it all. The boys and that baby you're carrying should be your first priority. We'll make it a live-in housekeeper, and she can have that downstairs room with the little bathroom. And when you need some relief—a nap or just a break—she can fill in with Greg and Peter, and I bet she could even take over housebreaking Tiger."

The more Sue heard, the better she liked the idea. "Come to think of it, it's awfully tempting."

"Tempting, nothing. I can afford it. I've got a week's vacation coming up, and we can both interview prospects. I'll call an employment agency and see what they can come up with for us."

Sue smiled. "Mike, you do so much for us, sometimes I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"No such thing," Mike said firmly. "You don't do any less work than I do, between all the housework and cooking, taking care of the boys and that rambunctious puppy. You need to look out for yourself more, especially now during this pregnancy. When I get in to work in the morning, I'll call the employment agency and set things up, and then starting this weekend, we'll wade through candidates."

It was Thursday of Mike's week off before they found an applicant who impressed them both. A dark-haired, slightly plump woman perhaps a dozen years older than Sue came to their house on foot from the nearest bus stop, as she informed them; she wore a plain but well-made dark-green dress and sturdy shoes. Her face wasn't quite pretty, but it was cheerful and friendly, and she had a large, ready smile.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Brady," she said, shaking hands with both of them. "I'm Alice Nelson."

"Hello, Miss Nelson," said Sue. "Or is that Mrs.?"

"No, no, it's Miss…sad to say," the woman said with a self-deprecating grin. "But there's time for that to change, isn't there?" She glanced around the living room and added, "This is a very pretty house."

"Thank you," Sue said and smiled.

"This would be a live-in position, Miss Nelson," Mike said then. "There's a room in the basement that has a small bathroom with just a sink, toilet and shower stall, but it would be your own space, and we'd make sure the boys understand that it's off limits unless you invite them in. As you can see, my wife is pregnant, and she's been overexerting herself. We just bought this house not long ago and got the boys a puppy, and poor Sue's been pretty overworked. With the pregnancy, her doctor feels she should try to get some extra rest, so we're looking for someone who can do housework and cooking, plus keep an eye on the boys when Sue needs to rest, and who doesn't mind housebreaking a dog."

Alice Nelson grinned broadly. "Piece of cake, Mr. Brady," she assured him. "I grew up taking care of kids—my little sister, a bunch of cousins who came and went over the years, and a series of dogs and cats all through my childhood. I was a housekeeper for another family north of town, but they got transferred to Rhode Island recently, and I decided I didn't want to relocate that far away. My family's here."

"Understandable," Mike said. "You have references?"

"Sure do. Here you are." She withdrew several sheets of paper from her handbag and gave them to Mike, who looked them over and began to shake his head, more and more impressed. She had no fewer than eight references—not just from the last family she'd worked for, but from previous temporary employers for whom she had worked several weeks at a stretch due to illness, pregnancy, or other short-term incapacitations. Every one of them had been very happy with the quality of the work she'd done, her efficiency, her deftness and thrift with cooking, and her rapport with kids. One had even noted, "A lively and cheery lady, a joy to have around during my convalescence. Very sunny personality."

Mike gave Sue the reference papers and looked thoughtfully at Miss Nelson. "You seem to come highly recommended. How about you meet our sons."

"I'd like that, Mr. Brady," she said immediately.

Mike went to the back door and called for the boys to come in, and a moment later they followed him into the living room, Tiger prancing at their heels. "This is Greg—he's five and starts kindergarten this fall; and this is Peter, who's two. The hound there is their puppy, Tiger. Boys, this is Alice Nelson."

"Hi, Miss Nelson," said Greg, and Peter added a "hi" of his own.

"Hi, fellas," Miss Nelson said and grinned. "Good-looking puppy you've got there."

"Yeah, he's great," Greg said eagerly. "Mommy's still trying to make him remember to use the bathroom in the backyard, but sometimes he forgets and pees on Peter's sneakers."

"Yucky shoes," contributed Peter, pointing helpfully at his feet.

"Well, we can take care of that in no time," Miss Nelson said, as if in confidence. "I know just how to get a dog to do his business where dogs are supposed to do business. We'll get Peter's sneakers so clean that Tiger won't want anything to do with them anymore, and then we'll teach him how to go where he should."

"The last lady said dogs should be trained with newspapers," Greg said. "She really meant to hit 'em with the sports section when they peed or pooped in the wrong place. We sure didn't want her around."

"No hit," Peter put in solemnly.

"No, that's the wrong way to train a dog," said Miss Nelson, nodding agreement. "You're right, Peter, no hit. I can help Tiger get it right, and you fellas can help me help him."

"We can?" Greg exclaimed. "Tiger keeps getting in trouble and Mommy says sometimes she wants to send him back, so we want him to be good so he can stay here."

Miss Nelson grinned. "I don't blame you, he's a great-looking pup, all right. Mrs. Brady, you can count on me, I can promise you that."

Sue smiled tiredly. "I'd really appreciate that, Miss Nelson…"

"Call me Alice. Every time someone says 'Miss Nelson' I start looking around for some old lady." Mike and Sue both laughed, and Greg giggled.

"Well, I tell you what, nobody else we've seen has nearly as impressive credentials and references as you do," Mike said. "And it sounds like you've already made a hit with the boys. We'd like you to start as soon as possible, Alice. When can you move in?"

"Tomorrow," said Alice, grinning from ear to ear. "My things are in storage but I don't have much, so it'll take me hardly a minute to get stuff in. Just need to put my bed together and get my dresser in, and I can do all the rest."

"Terrific," said Mike. "Welcome to the Brady family, Alice."


	9. Chapter 9

**ANOTHER BRADY BABY**

Within a week Alice Nelson had made herself right at home in the Brady house. She took over just about everything—the dusting and vacuuming, the laundry, linen-changing, room-straightening, cooking, and even food shopping. Though not a gourmet chef, she was very knowledgeable and could do wonders with the plainest and barest of ingredients. She even knew how to make fruit preserves, a talent that was fast becoming a lost art in these modern times. Mike and Sue were delighted when the boys announced they far preferred Alice's jams and jellies to store-bought ones, and could permanently strike that off their grocery list. Not only that, but Alice's food was good old-fashioned home cooking, often made from scratch, and thus better for them.

Sue's baby thrived, and she did as well. Able to rest whenever she needed it, she felt much better and had the energy now to take the boys to the nearby park whenever they wanted to play and Tiger needed a romp. She made a couple of friends in the neighborhood, and was just as proud as could be to be able to escort Greg to school on his first day of kindergarten.

She started thinking about setting up a room for the new baby now, since the house was somewhat more peaceful with Greg in school in the mornings. Mike got out the crib they had used for Greg and Peter, tested it, and decided they'd better replace it. So Sue had the opportunity to go downtown one day and do some crib shopping, taking along her friend Jane from down the street, who had a teenage daughter who had babysat for Greg and Peter before Alice joined the family.

"You look so much better, Sue," Jane remarked wonderingly, wending her way downtown in her big, comfy car. Jane's husband was a doctor and made very nice money, and her car was brand-new. "There's more color in your face, and you seem livelier and happier."

"Alice has been a real godsend," Sue agreed. "I don't know how I ever managed without her. And my gosh, she has so much energy, it makes me feel about three times my real age."

Jane laughed. "Some folks are like that. If you ever find another one like her, send her to our house. She could probably make Nancy's room presentable."

Sue giggled. "I don't think Alice has an identical twin. We don't know that much about her yet, only that she has a younger sister, I guess. Speaking of sisters…" She patted her abdomen. "I'll be happy no matter what this baby is, but I must admit it would be great if Greg and Peter could have a little sister."

"How much longer do you have before you find out?" Jane asked.

"About three and a half months now. I don't want to get too much stuff before we find out if we're having a boy or a girl, but I really hate the waiting and not knowing, because once the baby gets here we'll really have to scramble to lay in appropriate clothing and so forth. Mike's sister said she'd love to pass on her old baby clothes if she can. She had a little girl last month, named Katherine Anne. That baby is just a little doll, and she looked so adorable in those cute feminine outfits Patricia picked out for her…I'd love to be able to pick up some of those myself, but I just don't dare."

"I know what you mean. I wanted to do the same before Nancy came along, but it was all I could do not to. I was lucky, I got my wish. Maybe someday they'll find a way to tell whether a baby is male or female before it's born, but right now we just have to wait out the whole nine months. At least cribs are unisex, and so are diapers. You should lay in a really good supply of those now, while you have lots of time."

Sue found a crib she liked very much, but on their way out she couldn't resist lingering by the baby clothes and marveling at the little-girl dresses with their showy frills and pretty designs. "Why are girls' clothes so much cuter than boys' clothes?" she wondered rhetorically.

"Boys don't tolerate cute, that's why," Jane said, chuckling. "You could satisfy that little itch by getting something for your niece, if you really have to buy something for a girl."

"Gordon and Patricia will probably kill me," Sue said cheerfully, lifting a particularly sweet dress off the rack. "I'll get them this for Katherine."

That evening when Mike saw the little dress, he laughed. "You've got a fifty-fifty chance of being right," he teased.

"It's not for us, it's for your sister and that beautiful little girl of hers," Sue said with exaggerated dignity.

"And if you're lucky, in about six months you'll get it back," interjected Alice with a grin.

Mike and Sue both laughed. "I sure hope the right ears hear that," Sue admitted. "It would be so nice to have a little girl, now that we've got the two boys."

Greg and Peter had been watching, and now Greg said imperiously, _"I_ hope it's a boy. Girls are gross, and they're picky too. And they play dumb games."

"Like what?" Sue inquired, pretending offense.

"They always wanna play house," Greg snorted. "That's stupid! Jeannie Byalls always comes over and tells me I gotta be the dad when she plays house, and then she makes me hold these stupid baby dolls. It's so dumb. I wish we didn't have any girls in my class."

"No sister," Peter said, doing his best to copy Greg's disgusted expression. "Wanna brudder."

"Mike?" Sue began, turning to him.

Instantly Mike raised both hands and shook his head, leaning unconsciously backward. "No way, Sue, you're not getting me into this one. I'll be happy no matter what we get."

"But you'd rather have a boy," Sue prompted.

"I want us to have a happy, healthy baby," Mike said firmly, stepping toward her then and popping a kiss on her lips. "That's all I care about, Sue Brady, and I'm not rising to any bait you try to dangle at me. Now I've gotta get some work done, so if you'd all kindly excuse me…"

"I'll bring dinner in when it's ready, Mr. Brady," Alice said as he left, and he waved a hand in acknowledgement without turning around.

"'Sides, Mommy, you already got another girl in the house," Greg said. "Alice!"

Sue had to laugh. "Yes, Greg, you're exactly right. Oh well. It wouldn't matter anyway. We still haven't talked about names."

‡ ‡ ‡

Sue's labor with her third child was even faster than it had been with Peter. She awoke with contractions, and by lunchtime she was holding her third son in her arms. This baby was curiously different from his older brothers; where Greg and Peter had both been born with whorls of dark hair on their heads, this child had the barest fuzz, in a sort of faded toffee color. She cradled the little boy and tentatively stroked the down atop his head, waiting for Mike to come up and see him.

In a few minutes Mike arrived, wreathed in smiles and bearing a huge bouquet. "I wanted to be the first one to bring you flowers, before other people beat me to it," he said, setting the vase on her bedside table. "How's our newest little man?"

"He's perfect," Sue said and then looked impishly up at him. "I already counted his fingers and toes, and he has all the ones he needs."

Mike laughed. "Happy to hear it. Well, first order of business is to think up a name for him."

"I've been thinking about that," Sue said. "Trouble is, we used all my favorite boys' names on Greg and Peter, and now I don't know what's left. I don't think I like anything else enough to give it to a child of mine."

Mike nodded thoughtfully. "Well, whatever you do, don't use my name. I don't want any juniors in the house. My grandfather named one of his sons Henry Abraham Brady, Junior, and to this day Grandpa and Uncle Hank keep getting each other's mail. I don't want a son of mine going through that."

"I don't mind, but is it that bad, getting each other's mail? I doubt I'd mind too much if I got mail addressed to 'Judge Henry A. Brady', if I were your uncle," Sue said, grinning.

"Uncle Hank thinks it's funny, but Grandpa doesn't. He's so formal and stern, he prefers to be called Judge by everybody—including Grandma." Mike grinned at Sue's giggle. "Listen, honey, this poor little guy can't go nameless all his life. Rick said we could use his name if we wanted to."

Sue rolled her eyes. "He would. Well, what would you prefer?"

Mike thought for a minute, then looked up again with an almost sheepish expression on his face. "Listen, honey, would you mind a lot if I suggested his name? You came up with Greg's and Peter's, and I'd like a crack at it this time around."

"Okay," Sue agreed readily. "If I don't like it, though, do we have to stick with it?"

"Not at all, honey. If you really hate it, I'll find something else. But for a while now, I've been thinking about naming a boy Robert Wayne Brady. Bobby for short, while he's little at least."

Sue thought it over, trying out the name several times in her mind, then mumbling, "Bobby Brady? It sounds sort of…well, cutesy, if you'll pardon the word. The whole alliteration thing and all."

"He doesn't have to go by it all his life," Mike cajoled. "Just while he's little. When he gets old enough to outgrow Bobby, we can call him Rob or Bob or Robert, whatever he wants. But there's a good rhythm to Bobby Brady, actually. That 'whole alliteration thing' could be an asset in the early years of school—his teachers will remember his name better because of that."

Sue tilted her head to one side a little, turning this over. "Hmm, I never thought of that. I guess only time will tell if it really works."

"So what do you think?" Mike asked hopefully.

Sue smiled, unable to refuse him. "Okay, honey, Robert Wayne Brady it is." She paused long enough to see the huge grin spread across Mike's face, and then looked down at their baby. "Welcome to our world, Mister Bobby Brady."


	10. Chapter 10

**THE LAST DAYS OF SUNSHINE**

"Mommy, can you come to Show 'n' Tell with me this morning?" Greg wanted to know, about a week after Bobby and Sue had come home from the hospital. Bobby was fussing a little and Alice was preparing a bottle for the two-week-old baby.

"What for?" Sue asked. Despite the speed of Bobby's birth, she was exhausted, the fatigue lingering, and she thought her recovery was going more slowly than it had after Greg and Peter had been born. But she was determined to take as much care of Bobby as she could without foisting it off on Alice, who had enough to handle with the two older boys, the housework and cooking, and the dog.

"Well," Greg said earnestly, "yesterday Vicky Gray brought her hamster to school so everybody could see it and how she takes care of it an' stuff. So I thought today I'll bring you an' Bobby to school, and you can show how you take care of him."

Sue laughed and winced when the movement jostled some sore spots. "Honey, I'd like to, but Show and Tell isn't the place for a baby as little as Bobby," she explained. "And I'm still hurting a lot from when Bobby got born, so I have to stay home and get all the rest I can. The doctor told me so."

Peter had turned three several weeks before Bobby's birth, and Greg was now six and almost done with his kindergarten year. He was a good student, Sue and Mike had found, although occasionally he had a tendency to come up with unworkable ideas such as the one he had just proposed. Both Greg and Peter had been thrilled to get another brother, and their excitement had been almost too abundant: at one point Peter had nearly overturned the cradle that Thomas had carved for Bobby, and Greg kept trying to think up some way to show off his new baby brother to his classmates at school.

"Rats," Greg mumbled, snapping his fingers the way he'd seen people do on TV. Or at least, he tried to snap his fingers, but he hadn't quite gotten the hang of it yet. He made three or four fruitless attempts before blurting, "Aw, phooey. Alice, how do you snap your fingers?"

Alice handed the bottle to Sue and grinned at Greg. "It's easy once you know how, but it takes practice to get it right," she said. "You ready for school? I'll show you on the way." The doctor had insisted that Sue stay off her feet unless it was absolutely necessary, so now Alice walked Greg to school each morning.

"Okay," Greg said with a sigh and turned toward the kitchen doorway. Then he stopped short, causing Alice to half fall over him. "I know! Alice, _you_ could bring Bobby to school, so Mommy can do what the doctor says!"

"_No,"_ Sue and Alice chorused in perfect harmony, and Alice rolled her eyes for good measure. "Come on, Greg, it's time for school. You need to give me some warning before you stop cold like that—I almost ran over you." Sue chuckled and Alice tossed an encouraging grin at her over her shoulder. "Be back in a jiff, Mrs. Brady." Sue nodded and turned back to Bobby, while Peter sat in a chair atop two telephone books, laboriously feeding himself some of Alice's special oatmeal.

"Doing okay, son?" Sue asked indulgently, glancing up from Bobby for a moment.

Peter nodded industriously and swallowed, then said, "Mommy, can Bobby have Alice's oatmeal? It's real good and he'll like it a lot."

"I'm sure he will someday, but right now he's much too little," Sue explained, smiling at him. "Bobby's so little that all his stomach can handle right now is milk." She had a sense of déjà vu and suddenly remembered telling Greg the same thing about Peter, and grinned to herself.

"This is yummy," said Peter. "Mommy, why doesn't Daddy eat oatmeal?"

"Daddy never liked oatmeal," said Sue, who had this in common with her husband. Both she and Mike knew full well that oatmeal was good for them, but as kids they'd never developed a taste for it and had grown up eating pancakes, waffles, cornflakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. "I guess maybe if Alice had been there to make it when Daddy and I were growing up, we'd like it."

"Yeah, everybody should like Alice's oatmeal," Peter proclaimed. "Yum, yum."

"Try not to spill it," Sue said, as Peter plunked his spoon into his bowl again. "You want the oatmeal to go in your tummy, not on your shirt."

Peter paused and examined his shirt, then beamed at his mother. "Not on my shirt, Mommy, see?"

"I see," Sue said and smiled again. Bobby shifted a little in her arms and she turned the smile on her baby, noticing that already his light-brown hair was falling out and darker fuzz was beginning to show underneath. _He'll take after us dark-haired Bradys after all,_ Sue thought contentedly.

Alice returned within half an hour and began to gather dishes to wash; Peter was running around the backyard with Tiger, and Sue had put Bobby down to sleep for a couple of hours or so till his next feeding time. About to settle herself down on the sofa to read a magazine that had arrived in yesterday's mail, she saw something on Mike's makeshift drafting table and edged over to take a look. Mike usually showed her the projects he brought home, though he hadn't mentioned this one.

It was a house plan, she realized, studying it. It had a lovely, spacious kitchen, a den to watch TV or play games, and an incredible soaring living/dining room with a fireplace that also backed into an adjoining smaller room. In one corner of the huge room was a flight of stairs. Sue wasn't very good at interpreting blueprints, but she knew enough to know that whoever owned this house-to-be was one lucky son-of-a-gun. She smiled down at it and then made her way back to the sofa to rest and read while she could.

At supper she remarked casually, "That's quite some house you're designing in there, honey. I really envy the future owner of that place."

Mike paused in the midst of taking a bite of meatloaf and stared at her. "Hm?"

"I saw the blueprint on your drafting table," Sue said and blinked, stricken with a thought. "Oh, my gosh, I hope I wasn't intruding on anything."

Mike seemed to realize what she was talking about and laughed, forking the bite into his mouth. "Oh, that. Well, as a matter of fact, that's quite a feat, envying yourself."

"What?" Sue said blankly.

"The owner of that house is going to be you and me, someday," Mike informed her, grinning. "So you're envying yourself, honey."

Sue's eyes grew enormous. "Really? My word, Mike, how are we ever going to afford the place? The living room's enormous—I'm sure it would be beautiful to see once it's built, but even I can tell how big that place is. It's a gorgeous dream, though, I'll certainly say that."

"It may be that the boys are grown and gone before we can afford it," Mike admitted, "but I want you to have a place like that, that you can go nuts decorating if you want. Oh, sure, right now it's only a dream, but that's how the best houses begin—dreams, visions, in the minds of architects." He grinned at her while Alice gave Greg and Peter each a new mound of mashed potatoes. "And this architect is in love with a fabulous, beautiful lady who gave him three terrific boys and is the greatest wife in the world, so that's why I'm designing that house. It's for you."

"It's beautiful," Sue said again, smiling a little helplessly. She wasn't sure she deserved this future showplace, but she loved Mike dearly for wanting to make it reality for her.

‡ ‡ ‡

Just around the time of Bobby's first birthday, Rick dropped in on Mike, Sue and the boys with a huge cat-ate-the-canary grin. "Folks," he said grandly, "I have met the woman I mean to marry."

Sue snickered, and Mike gave him a skeptical smirk. "No way, pal. Not Rick Brady, confirmed lifelong, marriage-scorning bachelor."

"Oh yeah, big brother, me," Rick said, nodding vigorously. "She is _it,_ man."

Alice and Sue looked at each other as Alice was handing out highballs to the two brothers and a cocktail to Sue. Alice then peered at Rick and asked dryly, "Does _it_ have a name?"

Mike and Sue both burst out laughing at Rick's pause, head-scratch and blinking, goofy look. Then Rick smiled, unusually sheepishly for so self-assured a man (Sue's private word for it was "cocky"), and said, "Okay, okay, so she doesn't even know I exist yet, and I don't know her last name, even. But I promise you, I'm gonna marry the girl."

"Do you know her first name?" Sue inquired.

"Well, yeah, naturally. I wouldn't marry a girl whose name I didn't know," said Rick indignantly.

"Right," Mike drawled and winked at Sue. "So what _is_ her name?"

"Sharon," said Rick with a dramatic flourish, sitting up and leaning forward with an eager look on his face. "Isn't that the most fantastic name that ever existed? _Shaaaaaaaron." _He drew it out reverently.

"And where'd you meet this paragon of fabulosity?" Alice asked, in her usual tongue-in-cheek manner.

"On Flight 315 from Seattle to Los Angeles," Rick announced. "Just today. I just got back from that trip up to see my college buddy, Jim, and Sharon was one of the stewardesses. A vision in sky-blue, with gorgeous gold hair and the biggest blue eyes in the world. And leeeeegggs…aw, man, Mike, the legs on her. Spectacular. Incredible. Indescribable."

"A regular Miss America," Alice agreed, picking up her tray and heading back to the kitchen.

"And when Sharon and I get married," Rick went on, apparently oblivious, "we're gonna have great-looking kids—the best-looking kids in the family. Naaah, in the world. They'll be pals with your boys and Gordon and Patricia's girl, and we will be the most blissed-out parents alive."

"Well," said Sue, "make sure you let Sharon in on all this, okay?"

Mike grinned. "Do you have a way to let Sharon in on it?"

"Whaddaya mean?" Rick asked.

"I'm assuming you got her phone number," Mike said, highly amused. "It's kind of hard to marry a girl and have the world's best-looking kids with her if you don't even have her phone number."

Rick's face abruptly became suffused with horror and he groaned, so loudly that Alice half ran back in from the kitchen with a look of alarm on her face. "Aw, man, I'm so stupid," Rick wailed. "I didn't even get her number!! How'm I gonna find her?"

Sue smiled and remarked, "I guess you'll just have to book another flight and hope she's on it."

"You gotta be kidding!" Rick yelled, incredulous. "I'm serious here! I really have to find her!"

"Calm down," Alice suggested. "It's not as hard as you might think. Just take a day off and go to the airport and hang around there, and watch for her. If she doesn't show up, check at the reservations counter for the airline you flew to Seattle, and ask if they can find her."

"What if they can't?" Rick protested.

"It's easy, Mr. Brady," Alice said with a shrug. "Just give 'em that scintillating description you gave us, and they'll find her in no time at all." Again Mike and Sue burst into laughter. Rick gave them a fulminating look, shot Alice a glare and slouched so low in his seat that his knees were on his eye level.

"You people have no sympathy at all for a lovelorn man," he grumbled. "I knew I never should've come here. I knew Patricia would've made fun of me, but I really thought I could trust you, Mike."

"Oh, come on, Rick," Mike said, still laughing. "Well, she must really be something all right, if she made you totally forget to ask for her phone number. To tell you the truth, Alice's suggestion sounds like about the best idea going. What can you lose by trying it?"

"Not too much, I guess," Rick said, heaving a sigh. He slanted Alice a look from under hooded lids and down-pointing brows, and warned, "It just better work, that's all. Anyway…thanks for the drinks. Night." He got up and departed, and Mike and Sue looked at each other merrily.

"He's got it bad, all right," Mike chuckled. "I never thought I'd live to see it happen."

"I didn't either," Sue agreed softly, half smiling. "I'm glad I did, though. It's about time he settled down, that playboy. I only hope Sharon can handle him—if she bothers to give him the time of day, and if he ever finds her in the first place." Mike arose from his chair and helped Alice gather glasses, while Sue watched them and tried to maintain a poker face. She had another doctor's appointment tomorrow, and she dreaded the news she would receive.


	11. Chapter 11

**ROUND ONE BEGINS**

"It's going to be a long, hard road, Mrs. Brady," the doctor warned her gently. "You'll be sick more often than you're well, and you're going to wonder if all the misery is worth it, and you'll find yourself bedridden half the time and sick the other half."

"It doesn't matter," Sue said in a flat voice that shook a little with the effort to control. "None of that matters. All I care about is staying alive, doctor. I don't want to leave Mike alone and the boys motherless. Not if I have anything to say about it. My mother didn't fight her cancer, but I certainly will."

"Well, with an attitude like that, this cancer will have a real hard time bringing you down," the doctor said with a grin. "And you're right, you have great motivation. How old are your boys?"

"Seven, four and one," she said.

"Whew." The doctor winced a little and then smiled sympathetically at her. "I don't blame you for wanting to beat this thing. Okay, then, I'll consult with the hospital and call you with the date for your surgery, and then we'll go from there."

Sue agreed and left for home, feeling dazed and uncertain and terrified. She had ovarian cancer, which meant that she would never be able to have another baby. Never be able to try for the little girl she'd hoped to have once Greg was born. Never again know the feeling of learning she was pregnant, of the baby's first fluttering movements within her, of holding a newborn in her arms and examining its perfect little face. The tears began before she was halfway home and she tried desperately to stifle them, lest she get into an accident. Wait till you get home, she chanted to herself. Wait till you get home. Alice was supposed to have taken Peter and Bobby shopping, and Greg was still in school. Maybe she'd have a chance to purge her emotions in private, just for a little while.

‡ ‡ ‡

The house was just as noisy as always when Mike walked in his front door, but he grinned; he wouldn't have had it any other way. Greg and Peter barreled out of the kitchen and attacked him with hugs; Bobby, a few steps behind, teetered after them, a little off-balance but determined to follow his older brothers.

"Hi, fellas!" Mike greeted them cheerfully. "How was your day?"

"Great!" Peter blurted happily. "I made a big castle in my sandbox, and then I runned around the park with Tiger and Alice and Bobby, and we got to have chocolate cookies when we came home again!"

"I did great in school. I got a big silver star on my spelling test," Greg boasted.

"Da, da, da, da!" Bobby squealed, not to be outdone.

Mike laughed. "Terrific! Great work, Greg, I knew you could do it. Where's Alice and your mom?"

"Alice's cooking supper," Greg began.

Peter broke in excitedly, "Swiss Miss takes pasketti, that's what we're havin'!" Mike blinked in confusion and Greg rolled his eyes.

"No, dummy, Swiss steak and spaghetti. You watch too many commercials," Greg announced, with the superior knowledge of the firstborn. "Dad, is Bobby gonna be at the table with us?"

"Sure, son, why?" Mike asked.

"I hope Alice feeds him first. I can't stand watchin' him eat," Greg grumbled. The novelty of a second little brother had worn off fast for him, especially once Bobby started to toddle around and was able to get into Greg's things. This happened so often that Greg had started locking his bedroom door.

"Yeah, he's kinda messy," Peter admitted, a little more laid-back about Bobby's messes than his brother. Peter was still young enough to really enjoy getting down and dirty; he still loved his sandbox.

Mike grinned. "We'll see what we can do. Hi, Bobby, my boy." He lifted his youngest son off the floor and hugged him close; Bobby gurgled happily. "Where'd you say your mother was?"

"Oh yeah, I was gonna tell, before Peter _interrupted_ me," Greg said with a pointed glare at his brother. The italicized word came out with all the force that could be exhibited by one who had just learned the meaning of a wonderful ten-dollar word. "Mom's in the bedroom. Alice said she's been sleepin' all afternoon."

Mike's smile faded and he glanced down the hallway in concern. "That doesn't sound good. Well, she must just be tired. Come on, fellas, let's check in with Alice, and then go ahead and take Tiger out for his evening run. And take Bobby with you, he can always use the walking practice. Just keep a sharp eye on him so he doesn't hurt himself."

"Okay, Dad," Greg and Peter chorused, and a minute later they were racing each other around the perimeter of the backyard, with Tiger in hot pursuit and Bobby valiantly trying to keep up. Mike glanced out at them, greeted Alice and finally let his real worry show.

"Is Sue okay?" he asked, lowering his voice as if the boys could somehow hear him. "I didn't want to scare the boys, but Greg told me you said she slept all afternoon. What happened, do you know?"

Alice put a lid on a pot and looked back, clearly as worried as he was. "She was there when I got home from the park with Peter, Bobby and Tiger," she said. "I called to her, but she just said she was napping and asked if I'd keep an eye on the kids. I said I would, but when it was time to go get Greg, I went to let her know I was leaving and she was sound asleep. I didn't have the heart to disturb her. She looked…pale, Mr. Brady. I think maybe she'd been crying." She sighed deeply. "I ended up taking Peter and Bobby with me to get Greg from school, and I put Tiger out back so he wouldn't disturb Mrs. Brady. But she hasn't set foot outside that room the whole day."

Mike's lips thinned and his stomach began to churn with apprehension. "Okay, thanks, Alice," he murmured and left the room to check on Sue. He found her sitting on the bed, staring sightlessly out the window, looking forlorn. "Honey…what on earth is the matter?"

Sue slowly turned to stare at him and watched him sit down beside her. "I went to the doctor," she said.

Mike's stomach felt as though it were being jounced by an earthquake. "What's the word?"

Just like that, Sue's eyes welled up and overflowed. "They found cancer in my ovaries," she blurted and burst into helpless sobs. "They…have to t-take them out…" She dissolved in his arms in abject misery, and Mike huddled her close, trying to give comfort at the same time he was absorbing the shock of this bombshell. "Oh Mike," Sue wailed brokenly. "I'll…never get to…hold a baby again…never have the…the little girl I…I always wanted…"

Mike gulped down the lump that was poking up in his throat and hugged her hard. "Shh, honey, honey," he soothed. "If that's what it takes to beat the cancer and keep you well, then it's all right. We have three great boys, honey. If you really want a little girl, we can look into adoption. But don't treat it like the end of the world, okay? I'm sure everything's going to be just fine. They caught it early, right?"

"Th…they said it's…to keep it fr-from spreading," Sue choked. "But I have to…have radiation anyway, after the surgery." Her speech was almost too choppy for Mike to follow. "The doctor s-said…I'll get tired…and sick…my hair will fall out…I c-can't do any-anything for my b-boys…or youuuuu…!" Her sobs finally got the better of her and she bawled her heart out on Mike's shoulder.

A minute later a scared-looking Alice appeared in the doorway; Mike barely saw her through a film of his own tears. "Mr. Brady?" Alice ventured.

"We'll be out in a minute, Alice," Mike said, aware that his own voice sounded strange and a little high-pitched, and a bit constricted. It startled him. He hadn't been this close to crying since he was around eight or nine years old and scraped the living daylights out of his knee after falling off his bike.

Alice frowned but accepted this. "I'll be in the kitchen with the boys," she murmured. "Feeding Tiger." She cleared her throat and left a little too quickly. Mike registered her departure, but his mind was on Sue and the desperate, horrible, gnawing fear that was transferring itself from her to him, seeping into his soul as though it were soaking through his skin.

‡ ‡ ‡

They told Greg and Peter the following day. Greg managed to grasp the idea, though Peter was a little confused. Mike tried to simplify the explanation for him: "There are bad cells growing inside Mommy, and the doctors have to take out the parts of her where the bad cells are."

"What's a cell?" asked Peter.

"It's a very, very tiny living thing, so tiny you can't see it. Everything that's alive is made up of lots and lots of these cells, see? And there are good cells and bad cells. It's the bad cells that we want to take out, so Mommy will get well again."

"Mom's gonna be okay, isn't she?" Greg asked urgently.

"Of course she is, son," Mike automatically assured him. He refused to entertain the idea of losing Sue. He loved her too much for that, and he didn't want the boys to worry. Bobby would be fine; he was too little to understand what was going on, even if he sensed tension within the family.

Peter then said unexpectedly, "It's a good thing we got Alice. Alice can keep us clean and give us yummy stuff to eat, and Mommy doesn't have to do all that. She can rest and get better like the doctor said."

"That's exactly right, Peter, very good!" Mike praised, and Peter beamed. "Alice is going to be a big help for us. But don't forget, Alice can't do everything. She's just one person. You fellas are big enough to help her out by keeping your rooms clean and putting away your toys when you finish playing with them. You can remember that, right?"

"I won't forget, Dad," Greg promised solemnly, and Peter nodded, grave-faced.

"Good. I think we're gonna get along just great," Mike said, maybe a little too heartily. "If we all work together, Mommy can work on getting better, and we can help keep her spirits up."

"What's that mean?" Greg and Peter chorused.

"It means to keep her from getting sad, so that she'll get better faster. It's hard to get well when you're sad, especially with what Mommy's got. So we have to try not to be sad, all right?"

"Got it, Dad," said Greg, and once again Peter nodded. Mike smiled and patted their shoulders. Sue _had_ to beat this: how could she not, with him, the boys and Alice all rooting for her?


	12. Chapter 12

**ROUND ONE ENDS, ROUND TWO BEGINS**

They got a pattern down. Instead of going on a trip that summer, Mike used his vacation time to help ferry Sue back and forth to the hospital. Harry Phillips, understanding Mike's problem and very sympathetic toward Sue, worked with him, allowing him to work at home when he could, leave early if necessary for Sue's hospital visits and doctor appointments; and he even called now and then to see how Sue was doing.

Their neighbors helped as well. When it just wasn't possible for Mike to take Sue to the doctor or the hospital, her friend Jane stepped in and provided transportation. Another neighbor's teenage son mowed the Bradys' lawn once a week, refusing any payment, so that Mike could devote more time to Sue. Get-well cards poured in; Sue's cousin, Gene, dropped by often with his family; and Mike's parents and siblings stopped by often as well. Patricia and Gordon would bring their little Katherine, and Sue delighted in the child, telling Patricia she was lucky and confiding in her about Mike's suggestion of adopting a little girl one day. "When I get well" was a phrase Sue uttered so often that it was the first string of words Bobby spoke.

By Christmas of that year the doctors had given them some hope. The surgery had been a success and the radiation treatments seemed to be working. The Bradys celebrated the holiday with particular gusto, and Sue was more than happy to sit for a family portrait with Mike, Greg, Peter, Bobby and Tiger, taken by Alice. Things felt normal; Sue was able to get up, walk around, hold Bobby on her lap and even give Alice a little help with Christmas dinner.

By the time Greg turned eight, with Peter about to hit five and Bobby nearly two, the doctors pronounced the treatment a success and Sue cancer-free. "If you remain cancer-free for five years, you'll be considered cured," the doctor explained to her. "Every day you're free is a day closer to total cure, so be optimistic."

That was hard to do when, shortly after Greg's birthday, he, Peter and Bobby all came down with chickenpox at the same time. Greg had to be kept out of school, and Tiger turned out to be a solace to the boys, trotting tirelessly back and forth between Greg's room and the one Peter and Bobby shared. Sue commented cheerfully to Alice and to their pediatrician, Dr. Cameron, that it was a nice change to be dealing with something as mundane as the chickenpox.

"Oh, I don't know about that, Mrs. Brady," Alice said dubiously. "I remember when I was six and went through it myself. I think I was the most miserable kid in the universe."

"I'm sorry, Alice," Sue said instantly. "What happened? You must have had terrible spots."

"Oh yeah," Alice said, nodding. "All over the place. Wasn't an inch of my skin that didn't have some big red welt on it. I itched so much my parents went bankrupt buying oatmeal for oatmeal baths. Between a tub full of oats and my wrinkled skin, I felt like a big spotted raisin."

The boys cracked up with delight at that image. "Boy, I'm glad I don't itch like that," Greg said.

"You won't as long as you follow my instructions," Dr. Cameron told him, grinning. "Here, fellas, have a lollipop." He handed out lollipops to each boy, and at Sue's prompting they called thank-yous to him on his way out.

"But that wasn't even the worst of it," Alice went on when he'd left.

"What could be worse than having hundreds of huge, red, itchy spots?" Sue exclaimed.

Alice looked up, with an exaggerated look of sad outrage on her lively, expressive face. "It was the middle of summer," she mourned. "I didn't even get to miss any school!" Greg's mouth fell open and he gasped with total, heartfelt sympathy, while Sue started giggling.

‡ ‡ ‡

That fall Sue happily saw Peter off to kindergarten; Alice now walked him to school alongside third-grader Greg, and that gave Sue time to devote to two-year-old Bobby. During that school year Bobby and Tiger grew especially close, since now it was Bobby who accompanied Tiger on romps around the backyard while his older brothers were in school.

Then, a week or two before Halloween, Sue went in for her usual checkup and came back out feeling as if the floor had fallen out from under her. Her doctor didn't like what he had seen in her womb, and he wanted to put her through testing. Sue, seeing a hysterectomy in her future, cried again, upset at the utter injustice of it all, wondering if it was ever going to end.

Mike nodded stoically when he heard the news. "So it's just the second round of the fight, honey," he said. "You beat it last time, you'll beat it again. Don't give up, okay?"

"I just wish I could have…had a chance…" Sue began mournfully.

Mike tipped her chin up and gazed into the brown eyes she'd passed on to Peter. "Don't think of it like that," he coaxed gently. "Look at it a different way. We've got three great boys. You had the chance to be a mother, the way you told me you wanted to be when we got married. And you're the best mother in the world to those kids. They love you, don't you know that? And I love you even more."

Sue cleared her throat and hugged him hard, then declared, "I've set a goal for myself. I'm determined to see Bobby start school when he's old enough."

"Atta girl," Mike said, grinning. "That's the way to think. Now let's get started reaching that goal."

‡ ‡ ‡

Sure enough, it was uterine cancer. Sue had the hysterectomy, and then once again underwent the grueling, exhausting round of chemo treatments. Again, their neighbors rallied around, and Harry Phillips gave Mike the same leeway he had during the first battle. Greg turned nine, Peter six and Bobby three; Gordon and Patricia surprised the family with news that they were expecting a second child; and Rick shocked them all when he at long last introduced Sharon Stilwell, the airline stewardess he'd spent months tracking down and then more months persuading to go on a date, to the family as his fiancée.

Patricia, Sue and Sharon hit it off right away, and one late-summer day Patricia asked Sharon point-blank, "Tell me, what do you see in that crazy brother of mine, anyway?"

Sharon grinned, seeing Sue trying not to laugh. "Don't hold back, Sue, I don't blame her for asking. I used to wonder what my sister-in-law saw in my brother. Siblings can never understand how anybody can fall in love with their brother or sister, but it happens. And it turns out that, underneath the playboy exterior, there's an amazing romantic. When he finally won me over, he worked on keeping me interested, and one day I just woke up and realized I was in love with him. It means I'll have to give up my job when we get married, but Rick's persuaded me that he's my Mr. Right, so it'll be worth it." She smiled. "You two seem so happy to be moms, I can't wait to try it myself."

After supper that evening, Sue looked at Mike and said softly, "Now I have three goals. I want to be here to see Bobby start school, Gordon and Patricia's new baby, and Rick and Sharon's wedding."

"You'll make it, honey," Mike said confidently. "I know you will."

This time, though, Sue was more fatigued, for longer, than she had been when she'd fought off the ovarian cancer. She sometimes had the feeling that someone had twisted her tight and wrung her out like a wet washcloth. There were days when she didn't have the energy to get out of bed. Sometimes she slept the entire day away, and barely awoke long enough to say hi to her husband when he crawled in beside her for his own night's sleep.

The doctors stepped up the chemo treatments, but their effects were weakening, little by little. Rick and Sharon moved up the date of their wedding to New Year's Day, and when it was discovered that Sue's cancer had spread farther than the doctors had thought, and that she had cervical and intestinal cancer that wasn't responding to the radiation, they held it in Mike and Sue's living room so that Sue could be there to achieve at least one of her goals. Patricia was due to give birth in March. "Hang on, Sue," she said, grasping her sister-in-law's hand and squeezing. "Just a couple more months and you can see Junior or Janie here."

"Tell me about the names," Sue said.

Patricia understood. "Andrew Christopher if it's a boy, and Andrea Susan if it's a girl. The Susan is for you." She smiled, and Sue's eyes filled, and they hugged each other. Unnoticed a few feet away, Mike turned aside to hide his own tears.

It was the first acknowledgement anyone had made that Sue's condition was serious enough to warrant considering that she might not make it. Mike could see now that Sue seemed to have accepted that she wasn't going to defeat the disease this time, but he simply couldn't stand to give up hoping for a miracle. It was too difficult for him to face the idea that Sue might die.

At the same time, though, he didn't know what to tell the boys. He didn't want to upset them, but he also knew that he couldn't risk giving them false hope. All they could do was wait for the official verdict from the doctors, and they would deal with it then.


	13. Chapter 13

**THE FINAL DAYS**

It was clear by late February that Sue could withstand no more radiation. The cancer was holding strong, and Sue felt like a battleground being swapped repeatedly between warring sides. She had no hair left anywhere on her body; even her eyebrows had fallen out. She no longer had the strength to walk on her own, and the endless bouts of illness and nausea brought on by the treatments had caused her to lose weight to a point that the doctors feared malnutrition. She was usually pale, and her voice was weak and a little scratchy.

But she spent as much time as she could with the boys, especially Bobby, whose memories of her might be quite hazy as he grew older. She knew now that she wasn't going to be around to see him start school, and revised her goal to be there for his upcoming fourth birthday instead. Alice would come in each morning and help prop her up against several large, thick pillows, and she would spend the morning reading storybooks to Bobby, laughing with him at the pictures and helping him sound out words now and then. Tiger would usually come in and settle down beside the bed on Sue's side, "in just the perfect place for me to step on him when I come in with a tray," Alice would say mock-disparagingly.

Sue did achieve her second goal when Patricia gave birth to hers and Gordon's second daughter, who as promised was duly named Andrea Susan Dodge. Little Andrea was about two weeks old when Patricia brought her over so that Sue could hold her. "She's as pretty as her big sister," murmured Sue, smiling.

Bobby peered at his new cousin with a doubtful look on his face. "Does she talk?" he asked his aunt.

Patricia grinned. "Not yet, Bobby, she just got born. It's going to be a long time before she knows how to talk. You were just the same way. Everybody is."

"Even you, Mommy?" Bobby asked.

Sue smiled gamely. "Even me," she assured her son. "Someday Andrea will talk, and maybe you and she can play together then." _If only I could see it_, she thought, and felt a wave of despair and latent panic coming on. She squeezed her eyes closed and fought it back, but she was really tired of fighting. It seemed as if she always had to keep up a cheerful façade for everyone else's sake, particularly her sons'. More and more, she just wanted to give in to the frustration she felt at her body's gradual shutdown, the fury that she wasn't to be allowed to grow old with Mike and watch Greg, Peter and Bobby grow up, and most of all, the elemental fear of dying.

On Alice's days off, time she often took to visit her younger sister Myrtle in Torrance, Agnes Brady came over to pinch-hit, caring for the boys and cooking meals, and sometimes doing light housework if Alice hadn't had the chance to get to it before she left. Agnes and Sue had grown close over the years of Mike and Sue's marriage, and Sue talked to Agnes almost as she might have talked with her own mother. The next time Agnes was there, Sue could no longer hold back her emotions and let the dam break. "I can't understand why this is happening," she cried as Agnes grasped her hands tightly. "What's going to happen to Mike and the boys after I'm gone?"

"Sue…" Agnes began.

Sue shook her head and stared pleadingly at her mother-in-law. "We can't deny it anymore, Agnes," she said tearfully. "Even the doctors have said they don't dare do anything else. The cancer isn't responding to the radiation, I have no more strength, and even the thought of having more treatments makes me nauseated. There's no more they can do. All that's left is…to wait for me to…to die." She winced hard as the word came out, but somehow she felt better for having said it.

Agnes let her breath out and sagged. "To tell you the truth, dear, I was afraid of that myself," she admitted reluctantly. "I didn't want to, but I suppose it's time to face facts. Oh, Susie, if you only knew how much I hate seeing this happen to all of you."

"I…I guess my only wish is that everybody would stop being so…so _cheerful_ all the time." Sue struggled to control her tears. "I know why they're doing it. I know it's for the boys' sake, especially Bobby since he's so little. But all this relentless happiness is making me crazy—especially because I know it's all false. I can see it in their eyes, Agnes. It's like they're pretending everything's normal when we all know it's anything but. I so badly needed someone I could cry in front of. I can't do it around my boys, and I don't want to upset Mike—he's got enough of a burden. All I need…all I want is someone who'll let me release my real emotions, so I can get them out and try to be strong, at least for Mike and the boys."

Agnes nodded. "I know, dear, I understand perfectly. Anytime you feel you need to let it all out, just get hold of me and I'll be here. But don't shut Mike out, either. Just as you said, he's got a big burden on him, and I know he doesn't like this any more than you do. I think you'll find that if you talk to him, you'll be able to share everything with each other and make each other feel better. Say it all now, Susie dear, before it's too late. Say everything you want and need to say."

"You sound so sure," Sue whispered.

"I went through this with my father," Agnes told her quietly. "We knew he was dying but we weren't allowed to admit it. And I never got to tell him all the things I should have told him."

"Should I talk to the boys too?" Sue asked.

"Bobby won't really understand, and it might be a bit too much for Peter too. But Greg's almost ten, I think he'll be able to handle it. Don't jump right into it, though…just think about it, about what you want to say to him. All right?"

Sue nodded weakly. "I'm so glad you came, Agnes."

Agnes patted her hands. "That's what I'm here for, dear. Do you need anything?"

‡ ‡ ‡

"Mr. Brady?" his secretary's voice came through the speaker on his desk. "Mr. Phillips would like to see you for a few minutes. He says whenever it's convenient for you."

"Okay, Sally," Mike said listlessly and sighed. He had a hard enough time facing people at work every day, in the midst of his depression and fear about Sue, without having to speak directly to his boss. It was very hard to keep up a professional façade, though heaven alone knew he'd done his utmost. _Might as well get it over with,_ he thought and got to his feet, heading for Mr. Phillips' office with as much calm as he could muster up.

The secretary waved him in, and he was a little surprised to see another man there at his boss' desk. They both looked around in surprise. "Oh, sorry about that," Mr. Phillips said and grinned. "Joe, this is Michael Brady, one of my best employees. Mike, my brother Joe."

Mike shook hands with Joe Phillips. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all," the Phillips brothers said together, and Joe continued, "I was just dropping off something for Ed to take home to his wife. Listen, Ed, I gotta get back to Dorothy and the kids—I'll see ya later, huh?"

"Sure, Joe, take care," said Mr. Phillips. Mike stared in confusion as the door closed behind him, and Mr. Phillips read his expression and laughed. "Sorry, I guess my secret's out. You know me as Harry, of course. My full name's Harry Edward, and my parents decided to call me Ed growing up, but it turned out I went to school with dozens of other guys named Ed. So when I started college I decided to go by Harry. Wouldn't you know it, that's where I met Harry Matthews, and I was playing the name game all over again." He grinned and Mike chuckled quietly. "But the family still calls me Ed, so I've gotten used to answering to two different names." He cleared his throat and sobered. "Mike, are you…doing okay?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Mike replied carefully.

Mr. Phillips regarded him with an oddly knowing look on his round face. "Frankly, Mike, I think you're covering up. Now don't get me wrong—your work is as outstanding as ever. I'm just worried that your home situation is getting to be…well, too much for you."

Mike was very surprised. "Well, Mr. Phillips…" he began uncomfortably and tried to smile. "I just…don't want to let it affect my work, after all…"

"Of course not, and you haven't," Mr. Phillips assured him. "Look, Mike, what I really wanted to say…well, let's put it this way. Anything Mathilda and I can do for you, let us know, would you? No matter what it is. You're one of our best employees, Mike, and I know it's got to be hard on you, going through what you're going through. You've really come through with your work and we're very proud of you. You're up for another raise, and you'll be getting it next month, of course…but when something of this magnitude comes along, well, sometimes you just need some extra help."

Mike's voice was thick and he struggled hard to modulate it. "I…really appreciate this, Mr. Phillips," he managed at last. "My parents and my other family are helping a lot, and our housekeeper's invaluable, of course. I, uh…I guess we're getting along as well as we can expect to."

Mr. Phillips let a silence elapse, then accepted it and nodded. "Okay," he said. "I just wanted to let you know we're available, and don't forget, if you need to do anything special for Sue, we're more than willing to work around her and her needs. I just wanted you to know that."

Mike smiled a little. "Again, I appreciate that, a lot," he said. "Thank you." Mr. Phillips smiled, and Mike arose and slowly left the office. He knew his family and boss and everyone else were doing all they could' but the help he needed was of a kind that was impossible to give.

* * *

_I came up with the explanation of Mr. Phillips' name in light of Alex B. Goode's review. Thanks for pointing out that Pamela Phillips called him "Uncle Ed"!_


	14. Chapter 14

**THE HOLE IN THEIR HEARTS**

The boys had all been spring babies and it was already March, so Sue was optimistic about seeing each of her sons' birthdays for that year. Greg turned ten and she was able to hang on for that; then Peter turned seven, by which time she was completely bedridden and could no longer stay on her feet, even with help. Mike and Alice got used to carrying her together, wherever she wanted to go.

Neither Greg's nor Peter's birthdays had been very happy occasions. Even Bobby understood by now that his mother was dying and that one day soon, she would no longer be part of their lives. As the last few weeks before Bobby's fourth birthday wound down, Sue asked to be ensconced in the living room, so that Mike could sleep in peace each night (he never found the heart to tell her that his despair over her impending death was robbing him of the sleep she thought her absence would afford him) and she could still feel a part of things, whenever the boys watched television or played in the living room.

Even Tiger seemed to understand that Sue wasn't to be with them much longer. When Greg and Peter were in school, Bobby was napping and Alice went shopping, Tiger would stay beside Sue, as if keeping watch over her, till someone else came home. Bobby often woke from his nap to find Sue asleep and Tiger's head resting on the sofa cushion beside her.

Sue still read to Bobby, determined to make as many good memories for her youngest son as she could while she had the chance. Even after she got too weak to hold up the book and Bobby had to do it for her, she still read to him. Tiger would sit nearby as if listening.

Finally Bobby's birthday arrived and he was ecstatic; Sue was delighted that she'd made it this far. She knew she looked like a living skeleton, but she just couldn't refuse Bobby's insistence on having his picture taken with her. She smiled gamely, wondering what on earth Bobby would think of that photo in the years to come.

And with those thoughts came her first considerations of what would happen to Mike, Greg, Peter and Bobby after her death. Oh, the house would still run smoothly, she knew, thanks to Alice; but once they got used to her absence, how would they cope? What would they do? The day after Bobby's birthday, she caught Mike after the boys were in bed for the night and asked in her now-thready voice, "Honey…can we talk for a while?"

"Sure, sweetheart, of course," Mike said instantly and settled on the end of the couch, lifting Sue's feet and propping them onto his lap. She smiled at him and he smiled back, trying to look normal. He'd struggled to maintain some façade of normality all this time, but Sue could see the haunted expression in his eyes, the barely leashed fear of her approaching death and its aftermath.

"Mike, you're holding your feelings back, aren't you," Sue murmured.

He opened his mouth, but she gave him her very best maternal glare, and he sighed. "I don't know what we're going to do without you, honey," he admitted at last, his voice shaking a little, thickening noticeably. "Nothing will be right without you around."

Sue smiled again, faintly. "You'll get used to it in time," she said a little absently. "You'll have to, honey, there'll be no choice. But…I was just thinking. I didn't want to, because I was concentrating so hard on being here for Bobby's birthday. But I made my last goal, and now I can think about other things, and it surprised me…I mean, I never thought about what might happen after I'm gone."

"I'd rather not talk about it," Mike said, looking away.

"Honey, please," Sue pleaded. "I hate the idea myself. You know perfectly well that if it were up to me, if I had my preferences, I'd wish myself well again and be here to see the boys into adulthood and grow old with you. But I can't control that. It's out of my hands. I have to face that my days are numbered, and you and the boys have to face the fact that you've got to keep living after I'm gone." She suddenly grinned. "I do have one wish though. I'd love to come back as, oh, I don't know, a houseplant that Alice picks up at the market, and witness whatever happens and whatever you do after I'm gone."

Mike stared at her in disbelief, and finally half-grinned at the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Sue, honey, you can be really irreverent, you know that?"

"That's me," Sue said whimsically, then sobered again. "But really, Mike, I have been thinking about it. And it occurs to me…well, I hate the idea and I'm jealous as all get-out at the merest thought, but it's not as if I could do anything about it. And by then it wouldn't matter anyway. But Mike, what I'm getting at is that…you shouldn't live the rest of your life alone. The boys need a mother."

"They have you," said Mike stubbornly.

"Michael Paul Brady," Sue admonished sternly. Much of the effect was lost in her whispery-thin voice, but he got the message anyway. "Soon they _won't_ have me, and you know it. Stop denying it."

Mike's body sagged back and Sue felt him relax completely under her feet. He looked thoroughly dejected and lost, and her heart went out to him. "I can't even think of a thing like that, not now."

"I know," she said gently. "But one day, I think you should. You're a wonderful man, Mike. I've been so lucky to be your wife and the mother of your children. Nothing's going to change the fact that I bore your sons, even if I don't wake up tomorrow morning. But since they're going to grow up without me, they need…they need someone else. There are some things boys need to learn about girls, things only a mother can tell them."

"Alice can do that," said Mike. After almost five years with the Brady family, Alice felt like a permanent fixture, practically a family member herself.

"Alice is here to cook and clean and keep house," Sue began.

"She mothers the boys almost as much as you would if you had the strength," Mike informed her. "They know you can't do much more than talk to them anymore, and they've been going to her for stuff like patching up scrapes and mediating arguments." He shook his head forlornly. "She already makes such a great substitute, there'll be no reason for me to marry again. And how on earth could I ever fall in love again, after having you in my life?"

Sue made a noise equivalent to the shrug she no longer had the strength to execute. "Well, maybe you will, maybe you won't. I don't know, nobody does. But if you ever do meet a woman you think could be special to you, for heaven's sake don't make a martyr out of me. If you meet her and it feels right for you, then don't hold back. You might not meet her, but then again, you might—so don't rule out the possibility."

"It's too much for me to grasp. I…I just don't have the capacity to think about it. And it'll be a long time before I do," Mike informed her flatly. "A very long time. If you don't realize that, then you have no idea at all of the magnitude of my love for you."

Sue blinked, feeling her eyes sting. "Mike, you know I love you. I love you the way I didn't think it was possible to love someone. I've had twelve fabulous and wonderful years with you, from the day we first met. You know I'd be glad if I somehow got more, but…oh Mike, I'm so glad I had those twelve years. I'm glad for the time we've had, and our boys, and our wonderful life together."

"I am too," Mike said, his voice reduced to a thick whisper. He rose, knelt beside her and gently gathered her into his embrace. Sue breathed him in, etching the familiar feel and scent of him into her mind, cherishing this moment.

‡ ‡ ‡

Sue had drifted into her usual morning nap while Bobby slept upstairs and Alice was busy with laundry, and Tiger had thumped into his accustomed spot by the sofa and rested his head on his paws. The washing machine was making the usual noise, and Alice was about ready to take a load out to hang on the backyard clothesline when Tiger appeared in the doorway, whining loudly.

Alice stared at him in surprise; rarely did he come downstairs. "What's the matter, boy?" she encouraged the dog. Tiger turned toward the stairs, took a few steps, paused and looked back at her, and whined again. She frowned, put down the laundry basket and started for the laundry-room door, at which point Tiger bounded up the steps, barking. Alice managed to track him into the living room, where she saw him standing by the sofa where Sue lay. "Mrs. Brady, are you okay?" Alice asked, noting how Tiger pushed his nose repeatedly at Sue's hand, which dangled off the sofa.

Sue didn't stir; she didn't even twitch. "Mrs. Brady…?" Alice began, before she really noticed the sound of Tiger's urgent, high-pitched whine. At that point Alice _knew._ She didn't want to believe it, and she reached over and lifted Sue's limp wrist, pressing her fingers on the inside, searching for a pulse. There was none, and Alice tried Sue's neck, again to no avail. "Mrs. Brady, please…" Alice breathed, a frantic whirlpool beginning to churn inside her. Desperate, she peeled back the light blanket and laid her head on Sue's chest, praying for a heartbeat—and hearing nothing at all. Nor did she hear the light, nearly inaudible sound of Sue's breathing; the chest did not rise and fall. Sue was still warm, but there was no mistaking the fact that at some point during her nap, she had quietly passed on.

Shaking, Alice ever so gently laid Sue's hand over her stomach, then backed a step or two away from the sofa before sprinting into the kitchen. There she fumbled with the little telephone directory that lay on a table under the wall-mounted phone and finally found Mike's office number, which she dialed with fingers that she could barely fit into the holes. She couldn't believe how slowly the dial rotated back to its original position each time she released it.

Finally she heard the buzzes, then a crisp female voice. "Matthews and Phillips Architects."

"I need to speak to Michael Brady, please," Alice said. Even her voice shook now. "It's urgent."

"One moment," came the reply, and it seemed to be the longest moment Alice had ever spent. She could still hear Tiger whining in the living room, and it gave her the creeps.

"Michael Brady," she heard at last.

"Mr. Brady, this is Alice. It's…it's Mrs. Brady…she—she—" Alice sucked in a breath, and on the other end she heard Mike do the same.

"Alice, is Sue okay?" he exclaimed.

"No, Mr. Brady, I'm s-sorry," Alice managed, before her voice gave out on her. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. "I just…just found her. She's g-gone, Mr. Brady. I…think you should come home right away."

"I'll be right there," Mike said, and his voice was followed by a sharp click. Alice slowly hung up and stood there letting tears rain down her face for a moment, allowing herself a minute or two of grief.

Then Tiger barked, and suddenly she heard a pair of feet hit the floor from Peter and Bobby's room and winced. "Mommy!" Bobby called. "Can we read now? I'm awake!" And Alice Nelson burst into tears.


	15. Chapter 15

**THE DARKEST DAYS**

One would have thought Sue was some kind of celebrity, judging from all the people at the memorial service. Her frail and somewhat senile Auntie Charlotte was there, accompanied by her cousin Gene and his wife and children; and of course, Mike's parents, brother and sister, in-laws, and two nieces were there. And there were dozens of others—their neighbors, the parents of Greg's and Peter's closest school friends, Sue's childhood and college friends, more distant relatives of both Sue and Mike…he had no idea they knew or were related to so many people.

For the first time his sons had met their only living great-grandparents, Judge Henry A. Brady and his wife Mildred, plus Mike's uncles and aunts on both sides and a number of his cousins with their families. The procession of friends and relatives had been more than the boys could follow, and they now stood glassy-eyed with grief and confusion, mumbling hellos and thank-yous to those who gave condolences. Mike was proud of them, though; they stuck it out, continued to be polite to everyone, even people they had never seen before and would probably never see again. Alice stood nearby, looking woebegone, holding a box of tissues which she had claimed she'd brought for the boys, but which only she had used so far.

Sue had died just ten days past her youngest son's birthday, less than three months shy of hers and Mike's eleventh wedding anniversary. People had been filing past them for more than two hours now, gazing at Sue in the open casket, most murmuring prayers or bowing their heads in silence, many laying a few flowers atop the closed section of the casket and then approaching Mike to offer condolences. Quite a few had tears in their eyes, and more than once Mike had to struggle to hold his own composure, even though his mother had told him he didn't need to be strong. Somehow he just felt he did.

The actual funeral was even worse. Mike had seen the funeral director come to close the casket for the last time, and had turned away and begun determinedly herding Greg, Peter and Bobby toward the exit, unable to see them closing away his wife. He'd looked in at her who-knew-how-many times while the endless procession of mourners snaked forth, stricken every time with the impression that she was merely sleeping and would awaken any moment now. His very last impression of her was of the peaceful, serene look on her face, one that told him her suffering was over and his had begun in earnest.

All three boys, along with Alice, cried loudly as the casket was lowered into the ground. Mike just stared, wanting to look away but somehow unable to, as if his eyes were glued to the sight. Agnes edged near him and urged in a soft whisper, "Cry, Michael, please. You need to get it out. If you keep it inside, you'll kill yourself, and those boys need you now. Please, Mike."

Mike opened his mouth and tried to explain to her that he couldn't, he'd tried but he just couldn't; but the words refused to come. All he could do was swallow painfully, close his burning eyes and bow his head. The tears might come later, in private, when Greg, Peter and Bobby didn't need his emotional stability and he could shut himself away from the rest of the world. But right now he had to be there for his boys.

The tears did indeed come later, much later, after his sons had gone reluctantly to bed at a much later hour than usual. Greg had held out longer than his brothers, but he too had succumbed to exhaustion, and Mike and Thomas had carried him up to bed together. Thomas and Agnes were staying overnight, using Greg's room while Greg bunked in with Peter and Bobby, and Mike was glad they were there, yet at the same time he wished they would leave him alone. His mother had given him enough sharp looks throughout the evening to make him feel like a pincushion; but even then he still couldn't cry.

It wasn't till he was alone, in his own room, in the bed he hadn't shared with Sue for weeks now, that at last the tears took over. He muffled them in his pillow and sobbed, wishing for impossible things—to turn back the clock, to raise Sue from the dead, to find an instant and simple miracle cure for all kinds of cancer. Even though she hadn't been here in the bed with him, he had known she was in the house all the same, and he had been able to feel her presence and be reassured by it. Now he felt her absence like a gaping wound in his gut that wouldn't heal, like a chill in the air that he couldn't warm up by any means at all. "Sue," he mourned into the pillow, "Sue…Sue." His body shook and the tears soaked the pillowcase straight through to the pillow and its filling, but still he cried, grieving hard and deep.

After a long time a hand settled onto his shoulder and someone sat on the bed. He didn't care who it was, didn't bother looking up, but then heard Agnes' voice murmur into his ear. "I'm here, son. I'm here." It was small comfort, but it was enough, and somehow his emotions began to ease, just a little.

‡ ‡ ‡

"Mike, it's time, you know." Patricia stood in the doorway of his bedroom, a sympathetic but firm look on her face. "It's been six months."

"No, I'm not ready for that yet," Mike said, shaking his head.

"Sue figured you'd say that," Patricia said softly, coming into the room.

He glared at her. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded and laid a hand on his arm. "Mike, I miss her too. She was a terrific sister-in-law, and let me tell you, she and I and Sharon used to talk about you and Rick and Gordon—you guys'll never know all the things we told each other. But there was a day when you guys were out golfing or something like that, and we were talking. Sue told Sharon and me that if six months went by and you hadn't started getting rid of her clothes and other things like that, we should go in and make sure it got done, no matter how much yelling you did. She wanted you to move on and not get stuck in a rut, big brother, and she was right."

Mike frowned, but deep inside he believed her. It was the sort of thing Sue would have said. He just hadn't been able to bring himself to clear out her things. They had photo albums; there were samples of her handwriting, labeling the pictures in those albums, recording the names and phone numbers of friends and relatives in their little phone directory; and they had their memories. Those were the important things, after all. But gathering and giving away her clothes, her shoes, and her handbags would have somehow made her absence final in a strange way that even her death and funeral hadn't achieved. Okay, so it was absurd; obviously she wasn't coming back and would never use those things again. Yet there was a comfort in having her clothes in the closet alongside his own; they still carried her scent, and when he'd had a particularly bad day and couldn't talk about it, he would shut himself in the closet after Alice and the boys were asleep for the night, stand there among her things and take in the faint lingering scent of her perfume or her bath powder, and silently tell her everything.

"Not yet," he insisted, unwilling to give up that solace.

Patricia squinted at him. "Why not?"

He just shook his head and turned away. "I don't want to talk about it."

Patricia sighed deeply. "Well, then, maybe you should go out back and keep an eye on your sons and Tiger, and Sharon and I and Mom'll take care of it. You won't even have to watch."

His mother paused in the doorway then with Sharon behind her. "Come on, son, let's get it over with. It has to be done sooner or later. Sue wouldn't have wanted you to spend the rest of your life depending on a security blanket. Goodness, even Bobby doesn't do that anymore." Bobby had given up his "blankie" not long after he'd turned three; he'd regressed for a couple of months after Sue's death, but was recovering at about the pace he could be expected to. Greg and Peter were slower to rebound, but they were doing better than their father, who seemed trapped in his misery.

"Mom, for crying out loud, do you realize what you sound like?" Mike demanded, incredulous.

"It's not being callous; it's merely facing reality. Mike, you're a grown man, and you're sensible and down-to-earth, and you know perfectly well what's important in life. We're not asking you to go out and find an instant stepmother for the boys, for heaven's sake. We know it takes time, but you have to take an active role in your own recovery. Now go on, shoo…we'll handle this for you."

"Don't take Sue's bathrobe," Mike said, irrationally he knew, but unable to keep from pleading. It was scented with both her bath powder and her perfume, her two favorite aromas, and it more than anything else brought Sue's essence to him and made him feel better for a while.

"That too," Patricia said firmly. "Everything, bathrobe and all."

"You're ruthless," Mike protested helplessly. "Come on, it's only six months. Maybe when a year's gone…" He closed his eyes and tried to regroup.

Sharon ventured gently, "Agnes, I think we could leave him that, at least."

"What do you want with an old bathrobe, Michael Paul?" Agnes demanded, losing patience.

Mike shook his head. "If you have to ask, Mom, you won't understand. Just take it." He snapped the last three words, yet there was a resigned quality to them. He didn't wait for a reply but stalked out of the room.

"It's Sue's scent, Agnes," Sharon explained when he was gone. "I understand it perfectly. I kept an old sweater of my grandmother's for years after she died. It had her favorite perfume on it, the one she wore all the time, and she wore the sweater all the time too. The scent helped me to remember Granny better."

Agnes considered that for a moment, then sighed and smiled a little. "You're right, Sharon," she said. "I hadn't realized, but now I understand. I had that experience with my father. All right, then, we'll leave him the robe, but I think we'd better hurry and clear out everything else before he comes back and talks us out of that too."

"Besides," Sharon added wistfully, "eventually the scent will disappear completely. It did from Granny's sweater, and when that happened I couldn't bear to have it around anymore and gave it away. Poor Mike, it'll be so hard on him when he can't smell Sue in that robe anymore; but when he can't, he'll get rid of it."

Two hours later when Mike returned upstairs after the women's departure, he automatically went into the closet for a T-shirt and stopped short, shocked at the empty space where Sue's dresses and other clothes had hung. Her side of their closet seemed like a yawning cavern now—except for one item waiting in silence. He blinked. "The robe," he whispered, and drifted toward it, fingering the sleeve for a few seconds before burying his face in the soft, fragrant fabric, just to shut out the sight of the empty hanger rod. "Thanks, Mom…"


	16. Chapter 16

**YET THEY WERE ALL ALONE**

"Aww, poor little Peter," crooned Bruce Torelli, the second-grade bully. "Got no mommy to kiss his cuts and make 'em all better."

"Shut up," Peter cried. He was almost eight and he knew he had to be a big boy now; but Bruce Torelli was the biggest jerk in the whole school. He didn't care about anyone but himself, and he loved to hurt people, boys and girls alike. He had a way of finding the most painful thing you'd ever experienced and poking and prodding at the wound till it bled as though it had happened two minutes ago. It was no secret that Peter and his brothers were motherless, but Bruce had no sympathy for that at all. It was easy for him, Peter thought bitterly. He had two parents at home, a mom and a dad, who were both healthy and active and wouldn't die for years and years. Bruce didn't know what it was like not to have a mom anymore, and he didn't care. It was just another thing he could pick on Peter about.

"Too bad your mommy can't come and beat me up," Bruce taunted, giggling and dancing around Peter on his toes. "Since you can't do it yourself."

"Well, I can, you little creep," came a voice from behind them, and Peter lit up with relief. Bruce looked over his shoulder in surprise. There stood Greg, hands on hips, spearing Bruce with a glare tinged, just faintly, with grief. "Get away from my brother right now, or I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

Bruce visibly lost his bravado and began to whine. "I was just havin' a little fun," he protested.

"You don't know what real fun is, stupid," Greg retorted scornfully. "You're such a little brat, you don't have any friends, so you think you can make up for it by picking on people."

"I do too got friends," Bruce said, a little more loudly.

"You do not," Greg said, rolling his eyes. "I've been watching you, and nobody wants to play with you. You're just a jerk nobody wants to have around. And no wonder! When you make fun of kids whose mothers are dead…that's the lowest thing in the world. Get lost, you stupid little kid, before I make you start crying—and I can, too, you just watch me."

Faced with this threat from a boy three years older and several inches taller than he, Bruce wisely chose to desist, and slunk away. Peter stared gratefully up at his brother, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. "Thanks, Greg," he said.

"Hey, you're my brother," said Greg. "We gotta stick together." He stared after the skulking bully. "What a little jerk. Any kid who thinks it's funny that somebody's mother's dead oughta be strung up from a tree branch by his big toes. Is he in your class?"

"Yeah," said Peter with a sigh. "He sits in back of me and he's always callin' me a crybaby." He stared plaintively up at Greg. "I can't help crying. What else do you do when you miss Mom and you know she can't ever come back?"

Greg nodded understanding. "Hey, it's okay. I still cry too, y'know. I just don't let it show so much."

"Must be easy for you," murmured Peter.

"It is not," Greg said fiercely, and Peter blinked at him in amazement. "How can it be easy not to cry about Mom being gone?" He sighed heavily and glanced one last time after Bruce Torelli, then put a hand on Peter's shoulder and guided him along the street toward home. "I guess I don't cry as much as I used to, but I still do anyway. I mean…it's been months now."

"Almost a year," Peter ventured.

"Uh-huh." Greg glanced at Peter, then offered, "Don't feel bad about crying. Anybody who's really your friend won't mind, they'll know you're still sad about Mom dying."

"But what about Bruce Torelli?" Peter protested.

Greg snorted disgustedly. "Him? He's nothing. Just tell him to see how he'd like it if _his_ mother died. And if he keeps picking on you, tell your teacher. Grownups oughta know about these things, so they can make the little dummy shut his mouth."

"Okay," Peter said, a little doubtfully, but filing this advice away for future reference all the same. After a minute he said, "Bobby still has nightmares."

"Yeah, I know. He wakes me up too, when he starts crying in his sleep," said Greg. "But no wonder…after Alice, he was the first one who saw Mom lying there."

"He started havin' the nightmares after Dad wouldn't let Tiger sleep on his bunk anymore," Peter said.

"I know," his brother said and stared into the distance.

"Dad still has Mom's robe," Peter volunteered after a moment's silence, unwilling to let the subject drop.

Greg turned to him in confusion. "Huh?"

"Mom's robe. When Aunt Patricia and Aunt Sharon and Grandma took Mom's clothes away last month, they left the robe. You know, the white one that smells like girly stuff. I saw Dad stand in front of the closet one time and just put his face in the robe. I didn't get it, so later on I sneaked in and put it on my face. And I found out why Dad likes it. It smells like that girly powder Mom always put on after she took a bath."

Greg wrinkled his nose. "Perfume and bath powder, yuck." He sobered a second or two later and admitted reluctantly, "But Mom sure smelled good when she wore them." Peter nodded agreement, and the two brothers completed their walk home from school in silence.

Alice noticed their mien when they came in, and tried her level best to cheer them up. "I just made chocolate-chip cookies, fellas," she offered. "They'll be great with tall glasses of milk."

"Okay," Greg said, shrugging, and sat down. Peter climbed into a chair and propped his elbows on the table, resting his face between his fists. Alice set milk and cookies in front of them, and Greg looked up. "Where's Bobby?"

"Out back with Tiger," Alice said, glancing out the window over the sink. She regarded them for a moment, then took another chair. "What's up, men?"

Greg paused in the middle of dunking a cookie into his glass, noticing that Peter hadn't touched his yet. When Peter didn't move, he said sourly, "Some stupid little kid was making fun of Peter about Mom being dead." Alice's face collapsed into a mask of sad understanding, and Greg peered at her. "Alice, how come some people think it's funny when bad things happen to other people?"

Alice sighed gently, aware of Peter's attention now shifting to her as well, and interlaced her fingers on the tabletop. "Some kids," she finally said slowly, "are just mean, nasty little bullies. They don't know how to make friends for some reason, so they get attention by picking on other kids."

"Bruce Torelli's real good at it," Peter said gloomily, eyeing a cookie. "He knows all the worst stuff that ever happened to you and then makes fun of you about it forever. Billy Clair broke his leg last fall and he had to wear a cast and hop around on crutches for two whole months. And Bruce was always calling him a cripple and saying he'd never walk again and he'd have one leg shorter than the other, and stuff like that."

"Did that happen?" Alice asked gently.

Peter shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Billy's legs are the same…the same longness—"

"Length," Greg and Alice chorused, both grinning.

"Length," Peter echoed, trying out the unfamiliar new word. "Well, anyway, they're the same, and he doesn't walk funny or crooked or anything. He's the best kickball player in the whole class. Maybe in the whole school. So Bruce was lyin', wasn't he, Alice?"

"He sure was," Alice said firmly, nodding encouragement. "Bruce should know better than to make fun of kids who don't have mothers or fathers. If he does it again, Peter, tell your teacher."

"That's what Greg said," Peter told her. "But Alice, what if my teacher doesn't do anything?"

"She should," Alice said, a little stridently. "That's part of a teacher's job, to make sure a bully doesn't keep disturbing the class. You go to school to learn, after all, and if a bully's making trouble, other kids can't learn. You shouldn't have to put up with him."

"Peter said that kid sits behind him in school," Greg put in.

Alice frowned. "Hmm, that's not good. Listen, guys, why don't you let your dad know what's going on? Maybe he can think of something that'll help."

Peter shook his head so hard his hair flew around him. "No, I better not. Dad doesn't want any more sad stuff going on. We can't tell him, it'll make him feel even sadder."

"Yeah…it might bother him, and Mom being gone is really hard for him," Greg added uneasily.

Alice pretended to look stern. "Nonsense! Your dad would want to know. I tell you what'd really make him sadder than he already is—knowing that some kid is picking on you and nobody's stopping him. He wants you to do your best in school, right? And how can you do your best in school when some little brat's making trouble for you?"

Greg and Peter looked at each other, then both slowly nodded realization. "Yeah, that's right," Greg said. "Don't worry, Pete, I'll help you tell Dad about it."

"You sure, Alice?" Peter asked worriedly.

"Positive. Now that your mom's gone, you guys and your dad need to stick together. He needs you guys, and you need him too. You're all in this together, and I'm here to help you out. Got it?"

"Got it," Peter and Greg said together, and they smiled at each other in relief. Alice sat back and smiled too, looking satisfied.


	17. Chapter 17

**THE BRADY MEN**

Summer vacation was already a couple of weeks old when the entire family gathered at Mike's house; the children—Greg, Peter, Bobby, and their little cousins Katherine and Andrea Dodge—romped out back with Tiger, while the adults seated themselves around the living room and accepted drinks from Alice. Mike was feeling a little less lost now that he had family around, and he'd managed to survive more than a year without Sue. There was no way he was ready to date again, but for the first time he could consider the prospect without instantly flinching from it.

"Well," Agnes said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "It's sure nice to see all you folks looking so hale and hearty. How's tricks lately?"

"Yeah, let's hear the family news," Thomas suggested.

"Well, okay," Rick said and smirked. "This oughta be the big headline for the evening. Sharon and I are pregnant…due around Thanksgiving."

The others burst out with delighted exclamations, and even Mike grinned. Alice had returned to the living room with a tray of small square dessert cakes frosted in chocolate, and paused to stare at Rick. "I admit," she said when it got quieter, "I'm really impressed, Mr. Brady."

"Yeah? How so?" Rick inquired, squeezing Sharon proudly.

"Both you and Sharon are pregnant," Alice remarked, straight-faced. "I guess she's having the girl and you're gonna have the boy, huh?"

Everyone burst out laughing and Rick rolled his eyes, then joined in. "Okay, okay, so I'm not actually pregnant, but man oh man, this is all my dreams coming true. Yep, Mom and Dad, another addition to the army of Brady men."

Alice snorted, and Sharon gave him an outraged look. "Hold it right there, buddy, suppose this kid is a girl? What're you gonna be saying then about the Brady army?"

"I see nothing's changed," Mike observed humorously. "Rick's still putting his foot in it." Again there was laughter at Rick's expense; Mike didn't see Thomas and Agnes look at each other with relief at seeing their firstborn smiling again, for the first time in many months.

"We're thinking about trying for a little boy ourselves," Gordon said then, smiling at Patricia. "Kath and Andie think that'd be a great idea, and now that you two have a couple of granddaughters, we thought it'd be nice if we could get a son."

"If we do, it'd be pretty funny if I had another girl. Three girls to Mike's three boys," Patricia remarked.

"Are you still deciding?" Thomas inquired.

Gordon and Patricia both nodded. "We're not in a hurry," Patricia said. "Andrea's just a year old, after all, and I'd sort of like to have both her and Katherine potty-trained at least, if not both in school, before we try again. If we wait till Andrea's in school, they'll both be old enough to help with a new baby."

"So what about you, son?" Thomas asked, addressing Mike.

Mike smiled a little wistfully. There was still a tug at his heart at the thought of what he'd done the other day, but it felt like a milestone to him. "I finally donated Sue's old robe to charity," he said softly. "And, uh, Sharon and Patricia, if either of you would like any of the powder and perfume and whatnot she still has in the bathroom cabinet, you're welcome to take it home with you."

Sharon and Patricia looked at each other in surprise, then both smiled at Mike. "Thanks, big brother," Patricia said, "I think I will anyway."

"I always loved the perfume Sue wore," Sharon said, nodding. "I hope there's still some left."

Some hours later Mike stood in the bathroom, rearranging things in the cabinet to fill in the spaces left behind by the last of Sue's things, still feeling pangs of longing but realizing to his surprise that they weren't as devastating as they used to be. Sue had been gone for more than a year, and somehow they had all finally adjusted enough to start thinking of things other than the huge void she had left in their lives. He stashed a new package of razor blades in the cabinet and closed the mirrored door, then studied his own face as objectively as he thought he could. He was still a good-looking man, with his carefully trimmed dark hair, wide smile and blue eyes. His face hinted at a nonexistent stockiness, perhaps, but in fact he was still fairly youthful, in his early thirties and reasonably fit. He grinned at himself. "Not bad, Brady, not bad at all for a guy who's got three sons."

Tentatively, he wondered whether a woman might still be interested in him. Well, definitely not the sort of woman who was young and romantic, looking to start out life with a man around her age and raise her own babies. That'd just look silly. Maybe someone with a kid or two of her own, or at least someone who was around his own age and didn't mind taking on somebody else's children, even if she had none of her own. He shrugged to himself, and then grinned again. It seemed absurd to be thinking about the sort of woman he might date; but then again, maybe he was more ready than he thought.

‡ ‡ ‡

Sharon and Rick's son was born three days before Thanksgiving and was named Timothy Richard Brady, to be called Timmy. Sharon was still in the hospital with Timmy when the family gathered at Mike's again for Thanksgiving dinner, but Rick wasn't upset by their absence; he just took advantage of the opportunity to brag about Timmy and how, like Mike, he and Sharon were going to produce a houseful of boys. Patricia mock-glared at her twin and said, "I can't wait till Sharon gets pregnant again and pops out a girl next time. Tell me, Richard Thomas Brady, are you going to brag about a girl as much as you're bragging about the son you just got?"

Rick looked slightly startled. "Well, sure," he said, floundering just a little. "I mean, heck…a girl can keep Sharon company. Then she can go back to giving me more sons."

Patricia rolled her eyes and then met the gaze of Alice, who was setting out various traditional Thanksgiving dishes around the table. "Do you _believe_ him?"

"He's a man, isn't he?" Alice asked, and Patricia laughed loudly.

"Guess so!" she agreed and pretended to beat her chest, deepening her voice. "Me Tarzan, me strong man. Me have Jane who give me boys if she know what good for her."

Mike shook his head, laughing. "Don't you two ever quit bickering? It looks pretty childish on two adults, you know."

"Isn't that the truth," Agnes agreed tartly.

"One thing you need to remember, son," Thomas said, catching Rick's attention. "It just so happens that it's the father who determines whether the baby is a boy or a girl, not the mother. That deciding chromosome comes from Dad, so just keep that in mind."

"The father decides, huh?" Rick said thoughtfully. "Hmm, then I've decided I'm gonna have all sons." The family groaned aloud and Rick smirked cheerfully when the groans dissolved into chuckles.

When Christmas came around, the Brady boys and the Dodge girls met their new cousin for the first time when the family congregated at Thomas and Agnes' house. "I hope you have a girl next time, Aunt Sharon," Katherine said. "We got enough boys now."

Sharon laughed at that and assured her jokingly, "I'll try to remember that, Katherine. So what'd you get for Christmas?"

"All these babies," Greg mumbled to his father, watching his cousins and his younger brothers around the tree opening presents from their grandparents. "Um…Dad?"

"What's up, son?" Mike asked indulgently. Christmas had put him in a good mood; he was sorry that Sue couldn't be with them, but he was glad to have his family around him—his siblings as well as his sons.

"If you ever get remarried, do you think you could find a lady who has boys kind of around our ages?" Greg asked, peering a little uneasily at him, as though afraid of Mike's reaction.

Mike chuckled. "No guarantees, son. It all depends on who I fall in love with…if anyone." He tried to picture Sue and was a little alarmed to realize that his mental images of her in life had started to go fuzzy around the edges. He still remembered the sound of her voice and her sweet smile, but when he thought of her now, his mental image was influenced by their collection of still photos of her. In his mind she always seemed to be in some camera-ready pose now, instead of perhaps playing with the boys, reading to Bobby, helping Alice in the kitchen, dancing with him, whatever.

"Well, it's not like we need to have more kids in the house, I guess," Greg said, shrugging. "I'm not in any hurry for somebody to replace Mom anyway."

"Is that what you think it'd be?" Mike asked, turning to him. "Replacing her?"

"Wouldn't it?" Greg wanted to know.

"Listen, Greg, nobody can ever take your mother's place in your heart. She'll always have a special place there, because after all, she was your mother. That doesn't mean you can't make room for someone new. Think of it as an addition instead of a replacement. If the time ever comes, and you start feeling that way, think about that. All right?"

Greg ruminated for a moment, then looked up with genuine surprise. "I never thought about it that way. Thanks, Dad…and Merry Christmas."

Mike grinned. "Merry Christmas, son." He sat back and watched Greg go for the gifts from his grandparents and aunts and uncles, thinking to himself that maybe, just maybe, he was ready at last to find someone new. The only question was, where the heck did he start looking?


	18. Chapter 18

**THE LADY IN THE PARK**

The winter season was pretty rainy that year, keeping the boys and Tiger cooped up inside and getting increasingly restless. Bobby, who was halfway through kindergarten now and getting out of school at noon each day, loved the rain and insisted on taking Tiger out anyway. There was a certain logic in that, since Tiger had to do his business somewhere, after all. And Alice freely admitted she was relieved that Bobby was more than willing to handle the chore in this awful weather.

But they were all happy when one day in late February dawned clear and bright; even Mike couldn't resist going outside. Peter and Bobby wanted a picnic lunch, but Mike nixed it. "Everything's still too wet," he said. "We can stop by someplace on the way home and grab something, but let's just get out. I think we all need some exercise after all those rainy days."

"Yeah, 'specially Tiger," Peter noted, ruffling the dog's fur.

"I'll tell you _my_ favorite advantage of having a sunny day. For once Tiger won't come back inside smelling like wet dog," Alice contributed, cracking up the boys and Mike. She cheerfully waved them off and set about doing the regular chores, while Mike, Greg, Peter, Bobby and Tiger headed for the park where the kids in this residential area often gathered to play.

Greg and Peter threw a Frisbee back and forth, with Tiger chasing after it and trying to leap up and catch it; Bobby couldn't resist the swings and slides, and ran straight for them. Mike participated in the Frisbee game for a while, then settled down on a bench and watched his sons, relaxing in the sunny warmth of the day. The park was well populated; apparently just about everybody had decided to come out while the weather was being generous.

"Hey, it was her turn!" he suddenly heard Bobby shout, and looked around till he spied his youngest son, standing near the front of a line behind the slide with a blonde, pigtailed little girl on the ground in front of him. A boy who looked to be a year or two older than Bobby had just started climbing up the ladder, and Bobby was glaring up at him. "You cut right in front of this girl!"

"You big meanie!" the little girl yelled, not to be outdone.

Mike jumped up and hurried toward the slide; the boy on the ladder, seeing him coming, stopped halfway up and watched apprehensively. "Bobby, what's the matter?" he asked.

"That guy," said Bobby, pointing at the kid on the ladder. "He didn't even wait his turn, Dad. He just pushed this girl right out of the way and started climbin'. That's not fair!"

The little girl picked herself up and twisted around to stare in horror at her muddy legs, skirt and sweater. "He pushed me right in the mud!" she exclaimed and began to cry. "Mommy'll get mad at me!"

Mike gave the kid on the ladder a stern look. "Don't you know to wait your turn?" he scolded. The kid turned bright red, backed down the ladder and skulked to the end of the long line without a word, and Mike peered at the little girl. "You _are_ pretty muddy," he conceded, "but you're not hurt, are you?"

The little girl looked up and shook her head, wide-eyed. Shyly she said, "No, I'm okay."

"She's just dirty," Bobby said, surveying her clothes.

At that point a pretty, petite blonde woman, hair styled in the popular bouffant of the moment, hurried up to them, a look of alarm on her face. "Cindy, what happened?" she asked and then drew in a breath. "Oh dear, just look at all that mud!"

"I'm sorry, Mommy," Cindy said, still tearful.

"I understand it wasn't her fault," Mike put in. "Another boy cut in line and pushed her down to get her out of his way. I, uh, hope it all washes out."

The woman looked up at him in surprise, then smiled ruefully. "Well, I suppose there are worse things that could have happened," she said warmly, cradling the back of the little girl's head for a moment. "Thank you for intervening."

"Oh, not at all," said Mike. "By the way, my name's Mike Brady, and this here is my son Bobby."

"I'm Carol Martin," the woman said, accepting his handshake and turning her now-warm smile on him. "This is my youngest daughter, Cindy."

"Hi, Cindy," Mike said and then to the child's mother, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Martin."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Brady," said Carol Martin, her smile lingering. "Well, as long as the kids are all right, I won't keep you."

"Oh, there's nothing I need to get away to," Mike said with a shrug. "We're just relaxing out here in the park while the sun's shining. We all kind of needed a run."

" 'All'?" Mrs. Martin echoed.

Mike laughed. "Sorry. I have two older boys and a dog as well—they're over there playing Frisbee." He suddenly became aware that both Cindy Martin and Bobby had taken their turns on the slide and the line of kids had been steadily moving along while he and Mrs. Martin were speaking, and as kids took their turns, they had been interestedly watching the adults talking. "I think we're attracting an audience. I won't keep you either, I'm sure your husband must be waiting."

"Actually…" Mrs. Martin began, then frowned in the direction of the line of children. "I hope you don't mind if we sit down somewhere."

"Not at all," Mike said immediately, wondering what she had been about to say. "I've just been taking up space on a bench over there. What say we snag it before someone else gets there first?"

She smiled. "That sounds fine with me." They strolled over to the bench where Mike had been sitting and took seats, again smiling at each other. "As I was going to say, actually, there isn't any husband waiting for me. It's just me and the girls." She tilted her head with gentle suspicion on her face. "Are you sure your wife won't mind us sitting here chatting this way?"

"There's no wife," said Mike straight out. His smile fell away, but he didn't feel nearly as bleak and hopeless as he had in the past. "Sue died almost two years ago."

Mrs. Martin's face changed into a sorrowful mask. "Oh, I'm so sorry. My husband's dead too." She paused, cleared her throat and broke her gaze for a moment, then seemed to square her shoulders and looked up at him again with a game smile. He wondered what had happened to make her seem…well, _ashamed_ was the impression he'd gotten.

"I'm sorry," he offered softly.

"Thank you," she murmured and looked down again, but her smile stayed in place. "Roy's been gone longer than your Sue, actually. He…died a little more than three years ago."

"I see," Mike said. "I imagine you miss him. It was pretty hard on the boys and me when Sue died. It was cancer…we were expecting it, but still…"

Mrs. Martin winced. "Oh dear, I can just imagine. Roy…well…" She paused, bit her lip and looked up at him again. "Well, that's not really important. So you have three sons?"

Mike nodded. "Greg's eleven, Peter's eight and Bobby's five."

"I see. I have three daughters—Marcia's ten, Jan's seven, and Cindy's four and can't wait to start kindergarten." She suddenly laughed. "Oh, isn't that funny. Each of my girls is a year younger than each of your boys."

"Yeah, how about that," Mike agreed, laughing too. "Are all your daughters here?"

"Jan is; she's on the merry-go-round. Marcia comes just to visit with her friends from school, but I don't think she's quite outgrown the playground yet, no matter how hard she tries to act grown-up." Mrs. Martin grinned conspiratorially. "Marcia's a very feminine young lady…likes to believe she's worldly and sophisticated."

Mike chuckled. "They do say girls mature faster than boys." She nodded in amusement, and he shifted in his seat and found himself wondering whether she lived in the area too; he had never seen her before. "Say, uh, you live around here?"

"Yes, I do," she said. "When Roy…died, we had to move in with my parents, but they've been just wonderful about it. Roy didn't leave much money and I wasn't working, since I had the girls to care for. My parents said the girls needed their mother now, especially, with their father gone, and told me to bring them home and not worry about living expenses. Though of course, we try to help around the house all we can, to make a contribution."

"I see," Mike said. "We're a couple blocks from here, just over on Sweet William."

"Oh, I know where that is," she exclaimed. "It's a lovely neighborhood. My parents are on Nasturtium Drive." She pointed. "Just down that way about five blocks."

Mike nodded, recognizing the street name. "Then the girls probably go to the same school the boys do."

They sat and chatted a little longer, getting to know each other, till finally Cindy came up to them, looking disillusioned. "Mommy," she said, "I'm ready to go home. I gotta take a bath, don't I."

Mrs. Martin grinned and gently twined one of Cindy's sausage-curl ponytails around one finger. "You're right, sweetheart, you sure do." She turned back to Mike. "I expect I should get Cindy's clothes in the wash as soon as I can to get as much mud out as possible. It was very nice talking with you, Mr. Brady."

"I enjoyed it too, Mrs. Martin," he said, "but…just call me Mike."

She stilled in the act of rising, looking at him curiously, her blue eyes warm and her face pleasantly surprised. "Oh…then please, call me Carol." She lingered, though she did stand up straight. "I guess you and your sons are regulars here."

"Absolutely," Mike said, chuckling. "Between their energy and a dog that has to be walked every day, we know this place like our own yard."

"I see," said Carol. "Well…we'll be here tomorrow, if it isn't raining."

"We probably will too," said Mike, not missing the faint undercurrent of hope in Carol's tone. "I suspect we're going to be armed with a picnic lunch, thanks to our housekeeper and the boys' begging. Uh—listen, you and your girls are welcome to join us. We'll bring enough for everybody."

"That sounds lovely," said Carol with enthusiasm. "Then I guess it's a date. See you then."

"See you tomorrow," Mike agreed and watched Carol depart with Cindy trudging alongside her. He thought back on their encounter, realizing to his amazement that he'd been very glad when he'd heard that Carol wasn't married. She was pretty, with an open face, bright smile and large, warm blue eyes, and with a trace of naïveté in her that he remembered Sue having had when he'd first met her. Something about her brave smile and her unconscious vulnerability touched him, but there was more than that going on. She spoke well, with a hint of regional accent in her speech that he couldn't place but intended to ask her about the next day. And she obviously loved her daughters, from the little he had seen.

"Hey, Dad, something wrong?" It was Greg, who had come up behind him with Peter holding the Frisbee and Tiger panting.

Mike came to and looked around. "No, no, not a thing. Well…so are you ready to head for home?"

"Sure," Greg and Peter chorused, and Peter added, "I'll go get Bobby." He ran off toward the swingsets, and Mike watched for a moment, then pushed himself off the bench and stretched, looking forward to tomorrow.


	19. Chapter 19

**PROMISING PICNIC**

"Whoa!" Greg blurted at the size of the spread Alice was packing into the picnic basket. "We won't be hungry for a month, with all that food!"

Mike looked around from where he was pulling individual soda bottles out of the refrigerator. "It's not all for us," he said, just before he realized that somehow he'd managed to forget to tell the boys that they were having guests at their picnic.

"Who's the rest for, Tiger?" Greg kidded.

Alice instantly looked affronted. "If you think that hog of a hound is getting my good ham sandwiches…" she began, and Mike laughed while Greg shrugged with good-natured humor.

"I should've mentioned it," Mike said apologetically then. "I, uh…I met a lady in the park yesterday, and we got to talking, and kind of became friends…and, well…I just thought it'd be nice to invite her and her kids to our picnic."

"Her kids?" Greg repeated. "What's she got?"

"What's her name?" asked Peter, who with Bobby was watching Alice packing the basket.

"Does she have a boy same age as me?" Bobby wanted to know.

Mike lifted his hands to stop the barrage of questions. "One at a time! I'll answer in the order I got them. She has three kids—they're girls. Her name's Carol Martin, and no, Bobby, she doesn't have any boys at all, but her youngest girl is a year younger than you are."

Greg, Peter and Bobby looked dubiously at one another, and Bobby made a face while Peter wrinkled his nose. "Only girls?" Peter asked. "Gee, that's sure gonna be boring."

"Who says so?" Alice broke in. "I'm a girl. Do you think I'm boring?"

"Oh, Alice, you don't count," Peter said without thinking, and Mike did a slight double-take and stared at him while Alice put on a broadsided look. Seeing their expressions, Peter backtracked. "I didn't mean you don't count, Alice…I mean you're not a girl." That fared no better, and Greg started to grin. "I mean, you're not a _dumb_ girl. I mean…"

"You're a _grown-up_ girl," Bobby said solemnly.

"Yeah," Peter exclaimed, eagerly seizing on this. "Grown-up girls aren't so bad, I guess, but…"

Finally Greg took some pity on his brother. "Do we know 'em, Dad?"

"Probably not," Mike said. "Marcia Martin's a year younger than you, Jan's a year younger than Peter, and Cindy's a year younger than Bobby."

"Oh, that's weird," Greg commented.

"I don't know any Cindy Martin," Bobby said.

"You just met her yesterday at the slides," Mike reminded him, making him blink. "Remember? The little girl who got pushed down by the boy who cut in line?"

Bobby blinked again. "Oh yeah. I kinda forgot."

Greg and Peter looked at him and then each other, and then at their father. "Some kid cut in line?" Peter asked.

Mike nodded and told them what had happened. "That's how I met Mrs. Martin. She was worried that Cindy might have gotten hurt. We started talking, and, well…"

"So that's why there's so much food," said Greg. "We have to feed twice as many people as usual."

"And I guess that's why we've got soda pop," Bobby added, watching Mike carefully packing glass bottles into a paper bag. "'Cause it's a special occasion."

"It's prob'ly a date," Peter said gleefully.

Bobby looked horrified. "I hope not!" he exclaimed. "Mom wouldn't like that."

"Mom's dead, dummy," Greg reminded him bluntly. "She wouldn't know if Dad's dating again."

"As a matter of fact, your mother told me shortly before she died that she wouldn't want me sitting around being lonely," Mike informed his sons, who all stared wide-eyed at him. "If she somehow knows what's going on with us, then she knows about this, and I'm sure she approves. Now listen, fellas, I want all three of you to be on your best behavior. I know none of you is very fond of girls, but keep in mind that they may not be too thrilled that you're all boys. But it's a big playground, so there's plenty of space for all of you kids to spread out and play after we've eaten. All I ask is that you be nice to Mrs. Martin and treat her girls politely. Do you think you can do that?"

Greg nodded; Peter looked doubtful, but he nodded too. "I hope so," said Bobby candidly, and Alice chuckled.

"Nothing like brutal honesty, huh, Mr. Brady?" she kidded.

"Guess not," said Mike, grinning. "Okay, well, looks like we're almost finished. Go up and get your jackets, men, and Bobby, find Tiger's leash and put it on him. Soon as you're ready, we'll leave."

They met the Martins coming into the park; to Mike's disbelief, Carol was also carrying a picnic basket. "Oh, you didn't have to do that," he protested, hefting his oversized one and settling it atop the nearest unoccupied picnic table.

"Maybe not, but it didn't seem right not to contribute something to the feast," Carol said. "I remembered what you said about your housekeeper, and I thought maybe I could help with the dessert. I've got a big batch of oatmeal raisin cookies in here, and a big container of my homemade potato salad."

"Oatmeal raisin?" Greg repeated, brightening. "Wow, Mrs. Martin, those sound really good!"

"Mom makes the world's best oatmeal raisin cookies," Marcia Martin said. She was a petite girl and had a somewhat elfin face with a small cleft chin; her blue eyes seemed almost too big for her face. Her long straight blonde hair had been divided into two ponytails. "Whenever Grandma's got all the ingredients, she makes them for us, and we have them after school."

"They're really yummy too," said Cindy Martin, a round-faced little cherub with blue eyes almost as big as her oldest sister's and an innocent, adorable little grin. "Next year when I go to kindergarten, I'm gonna take some for Show 'n' Tell."

"I'm already in kindergarten," Bobby informed her importantly. "And you can bring only some stuff to Show 'n' Tell. Not cookies."

Cindy's face crumpled and she turned to Carol while Mike watched with amusement. "Is that right, Mommy?"

"Well, sweetheart, maybe you can't bring cookies to Show and Tell," Carol said comfortingly, "but you can certainly bring them in for a morning snack. Here, how about helping me put these plastic bowls out. Marcia, why don't you spoon out the potato salad, and Jan, you can give everyone a plastic fork."

Mike jumped into action. "Greg, here, put out the paper plates, and Peter, you put out the cups. Bobby, why don't you put out napkins." Thus were all six children occupied while Mike unloaded his picnic basket and Carol, having already put Marcia to work on the potato salad, started to dole out bottles of soda. The girls stared wide-eyed at these.

"We never get soda at home," said Jan Martin, a freckle-faced charmer with golden hair even longer than Marcia's, tamed into a long braid. "This is a real special occasion!"

"Sure is," Mike said and smiled. "Well, so tell me your names. I know Cindy there, but I'm not sure about you older girls."

Marcia and Jan introduced themselves, and Greg and Peter followed suit. Carol looked at Bobby after he'd parroted his older brothers and said, "Thank you for defending Cindy at the slide yesterday, Bobby."

Bobby grinned. "It was nothin', Mrs. Martin. It just wasn't fair that that other kid cut in front of her and pushed her down."

"What kid was that?" Greg wanted to know.

Bobby shrugged and said, "I don't know him. I never saw him before—all's I know is, he was bigger'n me, and _way_ bigger'n Cindy."

"Then it was even more courageous," Carol said, smiling warmly at him. "Well, then, are we ready to eat?"

The eight of them dug into Alice's ham sandwiches and Carol's potato salad, along with coleslaw, deviled eggs and macaroni salad provided by Alice. The kids didn't say much while they were eating; the boys eyed the girls, and the girls eyed the boys, and there seemed to be an air of mutual uncertainty among them all. Mike and Carol noticed, but carried on their own conversation all the same, hoping to set an example for their respective children.

"This is simply delicious," Carol remarked at one point, sampling the macaroni salad.

"So are these," Marcia broke in suddenly, raising a deviled egg for the others to see. "I love deviled eggs, and these are just really scrumptious!"

"That's Alice's cooking," Mike said cheerfully. "The lady's a real whiz in the kitchen, and she's been a lifesaver, especially since Sue died."

"It's nice to have someone like that," said Carol with a smile.

"Your potato salad's really terrific, Mrs. Martin," Greg put in, evidently remembering his father's request that he be on his best behavior. He shot Peter a look, and Peter immediately nodded hard, elbowing Bobby at the same time.

Bobby, whose mouth was full of coleslaw, made a gremlin face at Peter, swallowed and said, "The potato salad's okay, but I'm waitin' for the cookies." Everyone laughed, and at last the tension seemed to be broken; the kids started talking, albeit tentatively, after that.

Some time later, once the cookies had been devoured and the sodas drunk to wash them down, the kids got up and scattered. Greg and Peter threw the Frisbee again while Tiger chased it; Jan ran to the merry-go-round, and Bobby and Cindy both lit out for the swings. Only Marcia hovered nearby, scanning the perimeter for any girls she knew but apparently seeing no one. Carol pressed her into help with the cleanup, but once the trash was stowed away and the picnic baskets repacked with the empty containers, Marcia still looked doubtful. "Something wrong?" Carol asked.

"None of my friends are here," Marcia said. "What'll I do now?"

Mike glanced behind him, hearing a whoop from one of his older sons. "Why don't you get in on the Frisbee game with Peter and Greg? It'll give Tiger some extra exercise."

Marcia demurred, peering at him a little shyly. "I'm not very good at Frisbee."

"Try it anyway, honey," Carol encouraged her. "You might have lots of fun."

"Well, okay, I guess," Marcia agreed somewhat reluctantly, and drifted off towards Greg, Peter and the dog. Mike and Carol both watched her go, then sat back down at the picnic table and looked at each other.

"That," Mike said, patting his stomach, "was an unqualified success. Between Alice's cooking and your potato salad and cookies, I haven't had a better meal for a long time."

Carol smiled, blushing. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Your housekeeper really is quite the cook. Marcia was right, those deviled eggs were scrumptious. Maybe she'll give me her recipe."

"She might just do that," Mike said. He regarded her across the table, thinking how dainty and demure she looked, how curiously vulnerable she seemed to be. "You mentioned you live with your parents?" Carol nodded, and he made a contemplative noise and rested his elbow on the table, setting his chin in his hand. "They're not invalids, are they?"

"Oh no," said Carol, "they're perfectly healthy. A good thing. I think my dad in particular helps fill the father-figure role in the girls' lives." She stopped, as if she had been about to say more but thought better of it, and Mike wondered again what had happened. He refrained from asking, convinced it was too soon to get that personal. Who knew, they might find they weren't really compatible anyway, although the thought of that possibility was a little depressing. He liked Carol Martin; she seemed like a good mother to her daughters, and she could certainly cook a good meal, from what little he'd sampled today.

On impulse he blurted, "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" He saw her head come up sharply and her eyes go wide, and added quickly, "I know several really good restaurants downtown. We can make an evening of it…if it won't be any trouble for you to find a sitter."

"Not at all," Carol said quickly, "my parents won't mind staying with the girls."

Mike smiled, strangely relieved. "Good. Alice is practically family to the boys, so there's no problem on my end either. Well…let's see, how does next Friday evening sound to you? I can come for you at six."

Carol's face was transformed by a sunny smile. "That sounds really nice, Mike, thank you. But…don't tell me what restaurant it's going to be. I'd like to be surprised."

Mike grinned. "Then I'll do that." He was already anticipating the upcoming evening; something told him she'd look fantastic dressed up, and he had hopes of getting to know her much better, without the children around to distract them. There was a perfect place not very far from Matthews & Phillips where he sometimes ate lunch; he hoped their dinner menu was just as good, for he really wanted to make a good impression on Carol Martin.


	20. Chapter 20

**REVELATIONS**

Mike had thought for a minute there that he was never going to find out precisely why Carol seemed so oddly secretive about her husband. Maybe it was his willingness to tell her about Sue, he wasn't sure; but when he asked what was on her mind, she murmured, "I was just thinking what a lucky lady your wife was. Surrounded by people who loved her so much. Especially you."

Surprised, Mike looked blankly at her, and then she blurted out, "I wish it had been that way with Roy. He was several years older than I was, and I guess he was quite a bit more experienced too. I got pregnant with Marcia on our honeymoon, and right away he started crowing about the son we were going to have. I kept telling him it was even odds that we were having a girl, but he simply wouldn't listen. It was as if it were impossible for me to have anything but a boy. So when Marcia came along, he was doubtful at first, but then he warmed up to her and I was hoping for the best.

"It happened again when I got pregnant with Jan…but he was worse. And again with Cindy. It had to be a boy, always a boy. He was just about obsessed. The funny thing was, his parents weren't really like that at all, at least while I knew them. When I was expecting Jan, I asked his mother why he was so set on having a son, and she said he got it from his father. _He_ wasn't so bad… She thought it was because he'd gotten the son he wanted, now it was okay whatever he had for grandchildren, but it wasn't like that with Roy. We had some fights over it, some pretty ugly ones.

"I had to pay for the hospital stays for all three girls out of my own funds. My brother Jack had suggested I open a savings account in my name only, just in case anything ever happened. I'm glad I listened to him. Roy didn't have insurance when we had Marcia and Jan. He'd give me money but I never told him what I was doing with it. He'd have had a real fit. His parents died and left him everything, and he went and sold it all—house, car, furniture, the works." She sighed. "I got pregnant with Cindy in the hope that we'd finally get a boy. But very late in my pregnancy, we had a huge fight about the fact that he'd blown incredible amounts of money on the sports car he bought after Jan was born. After his parents' deaths and then his business partner stealing all the money from the business accounts and skipping the country with it, he was upset enough. He walked out, and the stress from the fight and his leaving sent me into labor. Cindy was born the same night. Roy filed for divorce within two months. I suppose he got it through the grapevine somewhere that he had another daughter, or else he might have come back. But by then I didn't really want him back. I wasn't sure how he'd treat the girls. Then, less than six months after I was served with papers, I found out Roy had wrapped that sports car of his around a bridge abutment and likely died instantly." She stopped, a little breathless, and let a hand drift toward her throat, looking sheepish. "I didn't mean to go on and on…I guess I got carried away. Sorry, I guess I really needed to talk about it."

Mike shook his head, astounded. "That's all right. Wow, so it's been pretty rough for you! I guess the girls must miss him though, huh?"

She shook her head. "Well, Cindy never knew him, so I'm sure it's more the _idea_ of a father that she misses. Jan doesn't remember much about him, except the last year or so when I was pregnant with Cindy and Roy tended to get surly if anyone told him I might be having a girl. Marcia might…although Roy was pretty bad when we were expecting Jan, too."

"It's a shame," Mike said sincerely, gazing at her. "I know I've only barely met your daughters, but they seem like terrific little girls. Sue would've loved to give the boys a sister."

"And Roy would have killed to get the girls a brother. Maybe literally," Carol remarked, making them both laugh. "Oh, well. Oh—here's our food."

Mike truly enjoyed his swordfish, and he was very glad that Carol seemed to find her salmon equally delicious; but though they went on to a number of other conversational topics, his mind kept going back to her story. _Roy Martin must have been one seriously disturbed man,_ he found himself thinking. _I hope I wasn't like that. I know Sue would've loved to have a daughter. I'm glad we had our boys, but I think it would have been fun to have a girl, too. And imagine how Sue would have looked…_

He had to quit thinking about Sue. If he was ever going to make something out of this new friendship he had developed, he had to get out of the past; it wasn't fair to Carol. Sue herself would have said as much, he knew. He dropped Carol off at her parents' house and made sure she was safely in the door before he returned to his car and drove the few blocks back to his own home. With luck he wouldn't be met by a gang of interrogators; the boys should all be in bed asleep by now, and Alice wouldn't pry. She'd ask some questions, yes, but she wasn't nosy. It was as well; he wanted to think for a while.

Alice greeted him when he got in, trying to hold back an enthusiastic Tiger. "Sorry, Mr. Brady, he heard your car drive up. Hope your date was nice."

"Very nice, thanks, Alice," Mike said. "Hiya, Tiger, old boy. Listen, don't stay up any later—if you're tired, go ahead and get some sleep. I'm going straight up myself."

"Sure," Alice agreed, looking a little wistful; he knew she had questions, but he wasn't sure he was in the mood. Still, he lingered. "We ate at the seafood place I have lunch at sometimes. Very good food. I think she enjoyed herself."

"She seems like a nice lady, from what you and the boys have said about her," Alice said, "which isn't much."

Mike grinned. "Sorry about that, Alice. I guess it's still too new to analyze in depth yet. But I'll tell you one thing—she's the only lady I've felt even remotely interested in since Sue died. And we have so much in common, too—we both have a brother and a sister, we've both been widowed, both have three kids, and both of us are lucky enough to have both parents still living. She's been through some rough times, but she's come through just fine, as far as I can see."

Alice nodded. "Well, then, I hope things go well. Okay, Mr. Brady, see you in the morning. Come on, Tiger, enough messing around." She tugged the dog along with her towards the kitchen, and Mike waited till he saw a light from her room before he flipped light switches in the foyer and went up to his own room.

He and Carol met in the park, quite by chance, the next afternoon. This time she had Cindy, Jan and a little girl he didn't recognize with her, while he had only Bobby and Tiger. "Fancy meeting you here," said Carl, laughing.

He grinned back. "Quite a coincidence all right. Hi, Jan and Cindy." The girls greeted him with big smiles before Jan and the strange girl ran off together.

"Hey," Bobby said to Cindy, "wanna play with me 'n' Tiger?"

"Sure!" Cindy agreed, and the two little ones scuttled off with Tiger romping along between them. Mike and Carol watched them go and ambled slowly along in their wake, intending to keep at least one eye apiece on the children and the dog.

"What happened to Marcia?" Mike asked.

"She was invited to a birthday party this afternoon. What about Greg and Peter?" Carol asked.

"Both with friends," Mike said. "Was that a friend of Jan's?"

Carol nodded. "My next-door neighbor's daughter, Julie Ross. They're in the same class at school. You know, I really did enjoy that restaurant last night. The food was wonderful."

"It certainly was," Mike agreed comfortably. "We'll have to go back sometime."

The remark had just popped right out of him without his thinking about it, and when he realized what he'd said, he almost stopped in his tracks. Carol looked surprised too, and cast him a glance. "That would be a lovely idea," she said.

"Of course, there are plenty of other good places to try too," Mike went on, hoping he didn't sound too clumsy. He was still startled at the revelation that he'd been thinking in longer term than he'd known about seeing Carol. "I can usually get good tickets to shows—plays and concerts and so forth. Somebody I work with has a brother who has connections in the small-scale city theater."

"That must be convenient," Carol said with a laugh. "My goodness, I don't know the last time I saw a show. I used to get parts in high-school and college plays, especially the musicals, but after I got married I never did get to go out and see a stage show, let alone be in one. I always thought I'd try again after the girls are old enough to stay by themselves after school, but the more I think that over, the less sure I am that I should even try. I suppose I'm self-conscious about singing in public."

"You sing?" Mike asked, intrigued.

"Sometimes," said Carol. "We go to church on holidays, and I've sung in the choir there. On stage, though, that's something I'm not sure I'll ever do again. It'd take a lot of persuasion at the very least. Maybe a few drinks too."

Mike burst into laughter. "Not even that would get me to sing for other people. I don't have any sort of singing voice at all. My family even tells me not to sing Christmas carols with them."

Laughing, Carol asked, "Do your brother and sister have kids?"

"Yeah—Patricia and her husband have two daughters, Katherine and Andrea, and Rick and his wife have a boy named Timmy. How about you, are you Aunt Carol to anyone?"

She laughed. "Yup, Mary has Chrissy and Alan, and Jack's got a toddler named Oliver. I think they and their spouses have both decided they don't want any more kids. Me…well, who knows. I suppose it depends on a lot of different things."

Mike nodded. "I know what you mean. Rick's wife's hoping they can have a girl, because Rick's a little bit like Roy was, in that department. But he's good-natured about it. If they have a girl, I'm sure he'll welcome her with open arms."

"I'm glad," said Carol, watching Bobby, Cindy and Tiger.

They continued walking and chatting, since all the benches were full today. Then Carol asked curiously, "What do you do for a living, Mike? Funny I didn't think to ask till now."

"I'm an architect with Matthews & Phillips Architects downtown," Mike told her. "It's a very good company. Phillips is my immediate boss and he's a great man to work for—he was very understanding and accommodating when Sue was sick. I know most of the guys in the various departments, and the atmosphere is pretty relaxed. Not casual, but…you know, upbeat."

Carol nodded. "It sounds like a good place. Roy was in business for himself—a plumber. When he was doing well, he brought in some good money, but I think it fluctuated."

"Yeah, a lot of businesses are like that," Mike agreed. "Matthews & Phillips is a good, stable company though. They've been around a long time—that impressed me when I was finishing school and looking for work. The company's won some awards, and they're well respected, and that appealed to me."

"I'll bet you're an asset to them, too," Carol remarked.

Mike shrugged. "Well, I do the best I can do, that's all." He considered telling her about the dream house he'd wanted to build for Sue, but decided against it. Since Sue's death, somehow the dream house didn't seem very important anymore; at least, he'd lost his enthusiasm for it. He sneaked a sidewise glance at Carol. As attracted to her as he was, could she make that crucial difference in his life?


	21. Chapter 21

**PASSING MUSTER**

Mike was still helping his mother, sister and sister-in-law clean the detritus of Greg's birthday party when Peter announced, "Hey, Dad, Carol and the girls're coming back up the front walk."

Surprised and glad, Mike turned around. "Good." He said it as much for knowing that Carol had told his boys to use her first name as to hear that she was coming back. He hadn't seen her go outside but had registered that she wasn't in the room, and had thought she and the girls had decamped without saying goodbye. It was nice to know that wasn't the case, and he wondered why he'd even thought such a thing.

"I rounded up the girls to help," Carol said, coming in with them behind her. "What can we do?"

"Why don't you bag up the rest of the wrapping paper and all the other trash?" Agnes suggested to her, and she nodded immediately, directing her daughters to help her collect the scattered paper, bows, tags, paper plates, napkins, plasticware and whatever else wasn't being kept. Agnes then collared Mike and propelled him into the kitchen; Sharon was just a few steps behind, though Patricia remained behind a moment more, apparently so she could look good by telling Katherine and Andrea to help the Martins. At least, that was Mike's thought when she appeared in the kitchen, where Alice was putting the remains of the birthday cake in Tupperware for storage.

Mike knew what was coming when the women put down the ice-cream bowls and spoons they'd collected and focused on him. He sighed and prompted a little wearily, "Okay, go ahead, start the inquisition."

They looked at one another. "Good heavens, Mike, that's not what it is at all," Agnes said in a half-scolding tone. "We just wanted to let you know what we think of Carol."

"Yeah, and?" Not that he really wanted to know, or that it was necessarily their business, but he knew all too well that putting them off would never work. They would have their say, no matter what.

"She's great," said Patricia. "She's as nice as Sue was, and that's really saying something."

"Poor Sue would've really envied Carol her daughters, I'll bet," remarked Sharon, with a certain amount of commiseration in her tone. She and Rick still had only Timmy and were now trying for a second baby, which Sharon had made clear she wanted to be a girl. "Anyway, Patricia's right—I like Carol a lot."

"And her girls have good manners, too," Agnes put in, "which is more than I can say for some these days. She's a woman who knows how to raise her kids right. I'd say you found another lovely lady, Mike. I didn't think anyone could possibly be as good as Sue, but I believe Carol Martin is."

Mike settled his weight on one foot, propped a fist on a hip and eyed them. "You know, maybe it's your fault I didn't start dating sooner after Sue died. I must've sensed you were going to use Sue as a yardstick and then report your findings to me."

Patricia turned red; Sharon looked disconcerted. Agnes, though, frowned. "Michael Paul…" she began.

"Mom," Mike cut her off, "it's not fair to compare Carol to Sue. They're two different women. Carol deserves to be judged on her own merits, not on how she measures up to Sue. I don't like that, and I can tell you for sure that Sue wouldn't've appreciated it either, not a bit."

"But we just got finished telling you she's just as good as Sue," Agnes argued. "That's a compliment, Mike, in case you were wondering."

"I know that's how you meant it, Mom," Mike said, trying to remain patient, "but it really isn't. I hope Carol never finds out about this, or you might cause the end of whatever we've got going here. Think about it—suppose Dad had been widowed before you met him. Would you like hearing yourself being compared to his first wife every time you turned around? I know you wouldn't. Carol won't either, so I'd suggest you not hold up Sue as a paragon of virtue and wait for Carol to rise to the standard."

Agnes cleared her throat, and silence fell in the kitchen, except for whatever noises Alice made moving around in the cleanup process. Before anyone could think of anything else to say, the door opened yet again and Carol came in with a bulging garbage bag. She stopped short when she saw the gathering, then smiled faintly and said, "Excuse me, I'm sorry. I thought the conversation in here was over."

"It is," Mike said firmly, shooting his mother a look.

"My God, I hope you didn't overhear us," Patricia moaned, her face turning pure crimson. "Geez, I ought to hightail it out of here before I make another verbal _faux pas_ and Mike banishes me from his house forever."

Carol smiled, then focused on Agnes and observed candidly, "My family's been making the same remarks about Mike that you have about me. So it's not as if I wasn't expecting something like this."

Mike groaned aloud and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, no!"

Finally Agnes got the full magnitude of the situation, and she turned almost as red as Patricia. "I'm so sorry, Carol," she said. "It's…only…just that…I only want what's best for my son."

"Just like any mother," said Carol. "My mother's the same way. You two will have to meet and talk, and compare mine and Mike's respective virtues and shortcomings, I guess."

Sharon laughed. "You're awfully generous, Carol," she remarked. "If it were me, I'd probably be on a screaming, tearing rampage right about now. Patricia and I were only trying to tell Mike that we really like you, and we think you'll be very good for him. Besides, you two look great together."

"That's encouraging," Mike said dryly. "Before this goes any further, Mom, why don't you find Dad and see where he got off to."

"No need," said Agnes. "He's out back with Bobby and Carol's youngest girl, and they're all trying to run Tiger's battery down so that dog will stop going after Greg's presents and whatever leftover food is still in the living room." They all laughed, and finally the group broke up and eventually made ready to head for home. Mike didn't get a chance to talk to Carol in private, and had to nurse his worries about what she must have thought of his mother's comments till the next time he saw her—which, as it happened, was going to be at Marcia's birthday party. Maybe he should take a little time that day to eavesdrop on the Tyler women and find out if they were being as opinionated as the Brady women were.

‡ ‡ ‡

Marcia's birthday party was dominated by girls—preteen girls who were heavily into the Beatles, clothes, and what boys in their classes they thought were the cutest. Marcia got a lot of looks and whispered comments, along with a bit of ribbing, when Mike showed up with the boys. Her friends dismissed Peter and Bobby as not worth their notice, and focused solely on Greg, who got one look at the crowd of girls and promptly swung right around and back toward the front door.

Mike just managed to snag him by the shirt sleeve. "And where do you think you're going?"

"Out," said Greg tersely. "Geez, c'mon, Dad, do you really think I wanna stand in there and have all those dopey girls giggling and whispering and pointing and staring at me? No way!"

Mike secretly felt for him; he too would have been uncomfortable in such a situation, and it was especially awkward for Greg, who was barely on the edge of discovering girls and generally still found them annoying. "I know it's hard, son, but try to be polite. It's Marcia's birthday, after all. She had the right to invite anyone she wanted, just like you did for your party. I'm sure she didn't exactly feel at ease in a roomful of boys."

"She did too," Greg retorted. "I saw her flirting. She's only eleven, Dad! That's freaky!"

"I hear they start earlier every year," said Carol from behind them, and they both looked around to see her smiling. "I'm sorry, Greg, I forgot completely. Listen, my dad and my brother Jack are in the kitchen, and I thought you might like to meet them. You can stick with them if you want, and you won't have to come out except for the cake ceremony and when Marcia unwraps her gifts."

"Wow," said Greg, wide-eyed. "Thanks, Carol." He peered at Mike, who was as surprised as he was. "Is it okay, Dad?"

Mike shrugged amiably. "Sure, son, go ahead." Looking deeply relieved, Greg tossed another thanks at him and Carol, ducked around her and bolted for the kitchen. "I think he'll be forever grateful."

Carol laughed. "Marcia did so well with all the boys at Greg's party, I just didn't consider that he wasn't going to be quite as appreciative of being surrounded by her friends. Anyway, Jack and his wife and son are here for the party, and Mary and her family should be around anytime now." She paused, then smiled conspiratorially. "Don't worry—we already set my sister straight at Jan's party, so there won't be any talking behind your back. We already got it out of our systems."

Mike had to laugh. "Let's hope it'll be the same for my side when Peter's birthday gets here. Heck, by the time Bobby and Cindy have their turns, we should all be old friends."

After Peter's and Bobby's birthdays there was a lull; the kids got out of school for the summer, and the Bradys and Martins began spending a good bit more time together. Carol had met Alice at the boys' parties, but they'd been unable to really get acquainted because of all the other family members. On the first Saturday after school ended, Mike put on a huge cookout at his house, and finally Carol and Alice had the chance to talk while Carol was preparing her contributions to the feast.

"So how long have you been with Mike and the boys?" Carol asked with interest, stirring up her potato salad to freshen it.

"Going on seven years, Mrs. Martin," Alice replied, winking at Mike, who was about to go out and fire up the backyard grill for hamburgers and hot dogs. "I've been with a lot of other families, but these folks are the best, and I'm gonna stay with them as long as they'll have me."

Mike grinned at Carol's interested look. "She really saved us just when we needed it. Sue was pregnant with Bobby and the doctor had ordered rest, and she could barely do anything. Alice stepped right in and took over everything, and had the house running like clockwork. Don't know what we'd do without her."

"I've been with the Bradys the longest," Alice added, while Mike headed for the back door. "Great employer, great kids, even a great dog…what more could you ask for?"

Mike chuckled to himself on his way out to the grill. There was no question, Alice Nelson was one of a kind; and the boys were so used to her that even Greg could barely remember what it was like before she'd joined the family. It was a relief to him to see that she and Carol looked like they'd get along well. He was beginning to think toward the future, to examine his feelings about Carol, and taking a long, hard look at that dream house. It would be some time yet before he knew what he intended to do; but he considered that he'd reached another milestone since Sue's death, now that he was thinking farther forward than he had since that awful day. He watched his kids and Carol's romping around the backyard, all six in a group, united by the presence of Tiger, and let himself speculate just a little on what might lie ahead for them all.


	22. Chapter 22

**TURNING POINT**

Mike hadn't expected the ending to Steve and Maria's lavish party that he'd gotten. He'd known the party was going to be at a country club, but for some reason it had never entered his mind that there might be dancing. Carol was a good dancer, and even better, she felt good in his arms. She seemed to belong there just the same way he remembered Sue belonging there. Strangely, though, he wasn't spun off into a spate of melancholy by the realization, and for the first time he understood that he had recovered about as much as he was ever going to recover from Sue's death. Sue herself would probably have cheered at the news, he thought with gentle amusement.

Kissing Carol in the car turned out to be so heady that when Mike took her home, he wished he didn't have to stop there. On the way they had talked a bit about getting away for a long weekend together, with nobody around to intrude on their interlude—no parents, no siblings, no children. If they were ever to find out how well they clicked together beyond the friendship and casual-dating stages, they'd have to get out of town. Carol's house was out, since she lived with her parents and her daughters were there; his own house was out, not just because of the boys, but also because of Alice. No, the next step called for neutral ground.

Having promised Carol a special weekend, just the two of them alone, Mike deliberated for three days over whether he should take her to the same resort where he'd taken Sue a couple of times before they'd gotten married. The place held a lot of wonderful memories for him; in fact, that was where Greg had been conceived. Yet he was afraid to revisit it. He hadn't been back since Sue's death, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't regress if he and Carol went there for a weekend. If he did, he'd ruin the entire weekend for both of them, and that was the last thing he wanted, when he was so newly certain of his feelings for Carol.

He didn't know whom to turn to. His brother would tell him to go for it, with only the physical side of it in mind; his sister would probably tell him he needed to make all new memories with Carol. His mother and father were likely to remark that he shouldn't be packing Carol off to some private little rendezvous when they both had impressionable children to consider. And the boys… He frowned. The boys might be neutral, at least in Peter's and Bobby's cases, since they regarded Alice as a member of their family after seven years and would be perfectly happy having her in charge for a weekend. Greg, though, was old enough to grasp the unspoken implications of his father's taking a weekend off and going out of town with Carol Martin, and he might object.

He was still sitting at the drafting table in the dining room that he'd turned into a makeshift den when he, Sue, Greg and Peter had moved into this house, long after the boys had gone to sleep for the night and Alice had put Tiger out back in his doghouse. He just couldn't figure out what to do. He was playing with a drafting pencil when Alice poked her head in through the swinging shutter door from the kitchen. "I'm shutting down for the night," she said.

Mike looked up in astonishment. "Is it that late?" he asked.

Alice's face registered surprise. "It's almost eleven, Mr. Brady. I thought you were working on some plans in here, that was why I didn't bother you."

"No, no…I was just thinking," Mike said, frowning at a pouch of drafting tools waiting for his next home project.

"Sounds serious," Alice remarked.

He sighed. "It is, I guess. Alice…" He paused, peered up at his housekeeper and realized suddenly that she had turned into something of a confidante for both him and the boys. She had almost completely filled the niche that Sue had left in their lives; she was housekeeper, cook, caretaker and good friend, everything but wife and mother. Why not ask her, crazy as it seemed? He took a deep breath and finished the question, in a roundabout way. "Would you mind staying with the boys for a weekend while Carol Martin and I go out of town together?"

"Why no, Mr. Brady, not at all," Alice said. "We'll get along just fine together, and you deserve a little break. It, uh, sounds pretty serious between you and Mrs. Martin, then, if you're thinking of taking her out of town for a couple days away."

"You could say that," Mike agreed, leaning back in his chair, feeling slightly out of place talking to Alice about this, but not nearly as much as he'd expected. "Problem is, I'm not sure where to take her."

"Oh, there're all kinds of nice places to go," Alice remarked with a little smile, leaning against the doorjamb and settling herself. "You could ski in the mountains, or go to the beach, or rent out a nice cabin in the woods…"

Mike cleared his throat. "There was a place I really liked, years ago…nice little resort by a lake, with a heated indoor pool and a sauna…"

"Oh, I remember Mrs. Brady talking about that, years ago," Alice said, still smiling reminiscently. "She told me she wished you two could've gone there just one more time, before she got too sick to enjoy it."

Mike stared at her, very surprised. "I didn't know Sue told you about that place."

"It sounded heavenly," Alice said, nodding. "If I were you, Mr. Brady, I'd definitely take Mrs. Martin there. I'd like to go there myself, if I ever find a fella who'll take me." She grinned self-deprecatingly, and Mike chuckled, but he was still getting over his surprise at Alice's suggestion that he take Carol there.

"You really think we should go to that one?" he asked.

"Oh, absolutely! I mean, think about it, Mr. Brady. You have terrific memories of it, and you really enjoyed it there. Wouldn't it be a shame not to go back? If it was great with Mrs. Brady, it should be just as great with Mrs. Martin. If it's such a beautiful place, then I'm sure Mrs. Martin would love it just as much as Mrs. Brady did. You can think about the good times you already had there, and create more good times on future visits."

Mike turned that over in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. When he looked up at Alice again, there was a huge smile on his face. "Yeah, Alice, you know, you're right! Why should I avoid a place I really liked just because I can't take Sue there anymore? And there's no reason on earth Carol wouldn't like it just as much." He popped out of his chair. "Thanks, Alice, you took a load off my mind. I'll make reservations tomorrow."

"Glad I could help, Mr. Brady," Alice said cheerfully. "Good night."

He watched her head for her room, then doused lights and made his way through the dark house to his own room, feeling buoyant, highly anticipating his weekend away with Carol. _Thank goodness for Alice,_ he thought as he brushed his teeth, _she's been nothing but an asset to this family._ Maybe he should give her a raise.

‡ ‡ ‡

"Oh, Mike, this is simply beautiful!" Carol exclaimed as he pulled up to the resort hotel, set alongside a blue lake that reflected surrounding mountains. "I never knew this place existed. It's lovely!"

"It's about as romantic a resort as a couple could ever want," he said, delighted by her reaction. He hadn't expected anything different, but seeing her appreciation made him feel good. He parked in front of the lobby doors and smiled. "Don't go away, I'll get us checked in and be right back."

A few minutes later he pulled his car around to their door and parked, then glanced at Carol, whose smile was maybe just a touch too bright. _Good,_ he thought with some relief, _she's as nervous as I am._ "I'll help you unload the suitcases," she offered.

"Oh, now, I'm perfectly capable of carrying two suitcases," Mike said, grinning. "You just take the key and go on in and look around." He pressed the room key into her hand and then swung out of the car to retrieve their luggage.

Carol came back anyway and reached in for her overnight case, smiling at him as she picked it up. "I just thought I'd take this one in myself," she said.

He grinned again. "Well, I do have to admit, it does help, since I haven't got three hands." Carol laughed and headed for the door, and he lifted out his suitcase and hers, slammed the trunk shut and trailed her inside the room. It was tastefully decorated and looked very comfortable…and there was just one bed.

"Oh," said Carol, stopping short in front of him and staring at it.

Mike cleared his throat. "I hope this is okay with you."

"Of course," Carol said, a shade too heartily. "It's lovely, really."

The awkward moment hung there between them, till Carol cleared her own throat and lifted her overnight case once more. "I think I'll just…freshen up a bit," she said and all but ran for the bathroom, leaving Mike to lay the suitcases atop a low dresser and wonder whether he'd made a mistake after all in requesting a room with just one queen-size bed. Didn't Carol realize just what she did to him? Only Sue had ever attracted him physically before this, and having those yearnings and twinges for Carol made him feel much better, for they proved he was still capable of truly loving a woman. But Carol seemed skittish, and he began to wonder if Roy Martin had done something that had left her with scars he'd have to be careful of.

He settled on the end of the bed and looked through the local TV listings just to keep his hands busy, hearing Carol moving around in the bathroom and running water a few times. He had picked her up at her home directly after work, without bothering to go to his own house first, and they'd come straight here, since it would be very close to time for the evening meal when they arrived. He was hungry, which surprised him because his stomach was populated with butterflies that had just decided to procreate. Before they took up all the room he had in there, he called, "Let me know when you're ready for dinner."

"Oh," exclaimed Carol, and she came out of the bathroom looking as if she hadn't done anything at all to herself, except brush her hair. "Yes, I'm ready. Is there a restaurant in the hotel?"

"Sure is, and they have excellent food," Mike said. "Let's go and see if we can get a table with a view."

Fortunately one was available, and for several minutes Carol just sat there drinking in the view, a look of rapture on her face. Mike couldn't blame her; but he was familiar enough with it that he wanted to do something other than stare out the window. "Thought you were hungry," he said teasingly.

"I'd almost forgotten," Carol admitted with a little laugh, "once I saw that vista. But you're right, I am." They perused their menus for a few minutes, comparing choices, till the waiter appeared and they put in their requests. Mike asked for the wine list, and the waiter nodded and departed.

Then he leaned over the table a bit and asked, "So how did your family take the idea that you were spending the weekend away, with me?"

Carol laughed, looking a little self-conscious. "The girls were fine with it, even Marcia. I have a feeling they're missing a father figure in their lives…Roy wasn't too good at it, especially after Jan was born and turned out to be a girl." Mike nodded, and her expression shifted. "My parents were a little less sanguine. I had to tell them I'm a grown woman now and I should know what I'm doing."

"Good for you," said Mike. "Well, Alice was all for it, my family had pretty much the assorted reactions I expected they'd have…and the boys were fine with it too. Except maybe Greg." He frowned, thinking about his oldest son's shocked reaction. _"Dad, isn't that the place where you took Mom? Are you trying to forget all about Mom now that you've got Carol around?"_ He'd had to explain that he would never forget Sue, but since she was no longer with them, it wasn't good for any of them to wallow in their misery over her death, and that Sue herself wouldn't have wanted that. He had tried to remind Greg of something he'd told him some years ago at Christmas—to consider Carol an addition, rather than a replacement. Greg had subsided, and while he hadn't been exactly overjoyed, Mike was pretty sure Greg would think it all over during the weekend. Greg was a smart kid; Mike had confidence that he'd accept it eventually.

Carol looked worried. "I hope Greg didn't mind."

"Well, not too much," said Mike. There was no need to bother her with the whole story. "He's a good kid, I know he likes you. It's just that he has clearer memories of Sue than his brothers do."

"I'd never want him to forget his own mother," said Carol firmly. "Nor Peter or Bobby either. From all I've ever heard from you and your sons, she must have been a lovely lady, and someone with that much influence, who inspired that much love, doesn't deserve to be tossed aside and forgotten."

Mike smiled, touched by the heartfelt emotion in her statement. "If you could tell Greg that, I'd be grateful," he said with a little smile.

"I will," Carol said and smiled back, just as the waiter returned with the wine list.

Through their dinner she seemed to relax, to Mike's relief, and a sense of anticipation for the night ahead began to build within him. When they eventually returned to their room, they were both feeling mellowed by a couple of glasses of wine apiece, and for a few minutes they stood out on their balcony, staring at the lake shimmering under a bright full moon. Something about the scene and the woman in his arms got to him, and he gave in to the impulse, kissing Carol fully and with all the emotion he felt for her.

Slowly they drifted back into the room, still kissing and now caressing each other, and finally Carol looked up at him in the faint light reflected off the lake. "Mike?…"

"I love you, Carol," he said softly, gathering her in closer. "I want you to know I love you, and I want to show you how much."

"I'm glad," she murmured, "because I love you too, Mike…I love you very much." This time when he kissed her, she responded with a special eagerness that made him glad he'd brought her here. They were going to be so good together, he just knew it.


	23. Chapter 23

**TAKING THE PLUNGE**

He'd spent too much time thinking, and now he wanted to act. After that fabulous weekend with Carol, he had discovered he had a hard time keeping his hands off her. Waking up to find her lying there smiling at him that first morning had brought home to him, once and for all, just how lonely it was being a single father. He'd been picturing her and the girls at his and his sons' sides for some time now; but oddly enough, when he tried to see them in this house, it just didn't gel. Instead he kept seeing all eight of them—and Alice too, for that matter—in that dream house he'd once thought he was going to build for Sue.

So after assessing his finances, he secretly got started on that dream house, first looking for a good place to build it. To his utter surprise, it didn't take very long. The neighborhood was in the adjoining school district, and one street boasted a good-sized lot with a house that, according to the real-estate agent who had the listing, had been gutted by fire some four years ago and subsequently been abandoned by its owners. Mike took a cursory look at the burned-out shell, but it was the yard in which it sat that really interested him. The place was overgrown with weeds, but he could see that with a little TLC, it could shape up into something very attractive. And the lot was the right size for that dream house, too, with enough space left over for a fairly substantial backyard that could hold the boys' swingset and seesaw, Tiger's doghouse, and even a patio with a grill, and still leave room for a carport and maybe an arbor along the back fence where Carol could plant a garden if she wanted to.

So he bought the lot, hired a demolition crew to take down the rat trap, and brought his sons out one sunny weekend to help him whip the yard into shape before the construction company he'd lined up came out to dig the foundation. "What're we doing here?" Greg wanted to know when he parked in front of the now-empty lot. "How'd this meadow get in the middle of all these houses?"

"It's a meadow now," Mike said, "but once we get hold of it, it won't be anymore. That's why I brought our lawn mower and borrowed your grandfather's. You start at the front and I'll start at the back, and Peter and Bobby, you can go into that driveway and start pulling up all those weeds growing in the cracks in the pavement."

"They'll just grow back," Peter said, staring dubiously at the neglected lot.

"Once you and Bobby get them up, I'm going to have the driveway repaved," Mike explained. "You see, men, this is where we're going to be living. I designed a house for us where you three could have bigger bedrooms, and I could have that den I've always wanted, and there'll be a nice big kitchen for Alice and a family room where we can watch television and play games and so forth."

"And an attic too, like at Grandma and Grandpa's?" Bobby asked excitedly.

"That's right," Mike said. "Alice'll have her own room and bathroom too, and there'll be a separate laundry alcove in the service porch. And this time we're going to have a carport too."

"Wow," said Greg, exchanging a glance with Peter. "So when do we move in?"

Mike cleared his throat. "You'll be going to different schools, you know."

Peter shrugged. "I don't care. It'll be nice to get away from that bully Bruce Torelli."

Mike laughed, and Greg and Bobby grinned. "Well, sounds like we've got a winner. Okay, Peter, you and Bobby can get started, and Greg, let's each grab a mower and tackle that grass. We'll meet in the middle."

‡ ‡ ‡

Mike knew there was no going back when he drove out to the lot on his lunch hour one Thursday afternoon and saw that the foundation had been poured and the skeleton of the house erected. Right now it was all brownish-yellow plywood and exposed timbers, but there was no question about it, it was reality. He hadn't told the boys his true purpose in building this house: he wasn't sure how they'd take it. Which, of course, meant that he had to do something very important indeed.

Around mid-February, when the construction was about half finished, he surveyed his sons around the kitchen table, watching them eating the strawberry shortcake Alice had made earlier in the day, and decided this was the time to bring them in on the full plan. "Fellas," he said, "I'd like to talk to you."

Three faces turned to him with interest. "Go ahead, Dad," Greg said expectantly.

Mike took a breath to steady himself. "You guys like Carol a lot, don't you?"

Greg blinked, as if startled by an unexpected assault, but his brothers both nodded. "Yeah, she's real nice," Bobby said. "She reads me and Cindy stories, like Mommy read to me before she died."

"She likes Tiger, too," said Peter. "Even though she's got a cat."

Mike chuckled and turned to his oldest. "Greg?"

"Well, I like her too," Greg said, a little defensively, as if afraid of being outdone by his brothers. "She's really nice, I guess just as nice as Mom."

"Good," said Mike and cleared his throat. "I'm glad you feel that way, because I love Carol very much, and I'm planning to ask her to marry me."

"Wow!" blurted Bobby, wide-eyed.

Peter suddenly added things up. "Hey, that's why we're building the new house," he exclaimed. "'Cause Carol's gonna come and live with us."

"If she says yes," Mike quantified, nodding, "and I hope she does. But before I ask her, there's something we need to discuss very carefully." He looked at each boy in turn. "I'm talking about Marcia, Jan and Cindy. If I ask Carol to marry me and she says yes and moves in with us, that means Marcia, Jan and Cindy will be moving in with us too."

Greg folded his arms over his chest. "Dad, how many bedrooms are there gonna be in the new house?"

"Three," said Mike. "Four if you count Alice's room."

"If the new house is gonna be bigger, why can't we all have our own room?" Peter wanted to know.

Mike laughed. "Just try designing a house with eight bedrooms! My name isn't Onassis or Rockefeller—I don't have the money it would take to build something that big, because it'd have to be a castle. A house that size would be too big for the lot I bought. Now, maybe someday, it might be possible to turn the attic into a bedroom, when you're a little older. But the rooms you kids will be sharing are bigger than your rooms in this house."

Greg made a face. "That means I'll have to move in with Peter and Bobby, doesn't it?"

"Would you rather move in with the girls?" Mike asked, straight-faced. Peter and Bobby dissolved into gales of laughter, and Greg rolled his eyes in disgust, making Mike grin. "That's what I thought. Now look, I know it'll be a little crowded. But we'll still have Alice, and overall we'll have more space than we do here. The bathroom you kids would be sharing is bigger than the one you have now—everything's bigger than what we have now, for that matter."

"Okay, Dad, okay," Greg said, capitulating with less reluctance than Mike had thought. "I guess I get the message. But I mean…gee, you really love Carol, don't you?"

Mike nodded solemnly. "It's lonely, being without someone to love. I've been lonely since your mother died. With Carol around, I'm not so lonely anymore. We have a lot of things in common, we love each other, and we're always happy together. It'd be kind of ridiculous to keep going on the way we are, living apart from each other, when we could get married and be together all the time." He paused a moment. "The thing is, like I said, you'd have three new sisters…"

"You mean stepsisters, right, Dad?" Peter asked. "There's a guy in my class whose dad got married again last summer, and now he has a stepbrother and a stepsister."

"Well, yes," Mike said and cleared his throat again. "But you see, Marcia, Jan and Cindy didn't have a dad who loved them the same way your mother loved you boys. For that matter, Cindy never even met her dad. He didn't appreciate them and didn't treat them right, and I think they'd like to have a father. When I ask Carol to marry me, I'm going to offer to formally adopt the girls, so that they'll be my daughters and their last name will be Brady, just like yours."

"So that means Cindy 'n' Marcia 'n' Jan'd have a real dad, and they'd be our real sisters, 'n' all that?" Bobby asked. "And then I guess Carol'd be our real mom too?"

"Your mother was your real mom," Mike said gently, noticing Greg's expression in particular. "You can think of Carol as your second mom. That's what she'll be. You don't have to call her Mom if you're uncomfortable with it; she'll understand. If you want to somewhere down the road, then I'm sure she'll be very happy about it. Remember, boys, we're not just going to jump into this without looking. I know it's going to take a lot of adjustment on everyone's part. You'd have to get used to having three sisters, and they'll have to get used to having three brothers, and both sides will have to accept a new parent and a new neighborhood and school on top of that. It's like we're starting over from the beginning."

"A clean slate?" Greg offered.

"Something like that," Mike agreed.

"But Mom lived here," Bobby protested suddenly. "How's she gonna look down and see us when we move away? She won't know where we are anymore!"

"Sure she will, Bobby," Mike said. "She can see us no matter where we are."

"But so much great stuff happened in this house, when Mom was alive," Peter said a little wistfully. "It's like we're erasing all those memories."

Mike shook his head. "No, Peter, not at all. Memories don't live in walls and ceilings and floors—they live in your head, you see?" He tapped his own head to emphasize his point. "No matter if it's here or in the new house, nobody can ever take your memories away from you. You'll always have those, and you'll always have the pictures we took when your mom was alive. Nothing can change that."

Peter seemed relieved. "Oh, good," he said. "I was kinda worried about that."

Mike grinned. "Well, I'm glad I could clear that up. Now, tell me the truth, all three of you. How would you feel about having three sisters?"

"Well," Bobby spoke up first, looking comically thoughtful for a six-year-old. "Cindy's not so bad. She really likes the teeter-totter, and she likes the swings, and she's not scared of bugs and stuff like a lot of other girls are. She likes to play with dumb dolls 'n' all that, but I guess she's pretty neat. And I guess I like Jan 'n' Marcia okay too. I mean, they don't call me names or anything. They don't really pay much attention to me, but they're okay."

Mike laughed. "Fair enough. Peter?"

Peter shrugged. "They're all right. Jan's kinda stopped playing with dolls mostly, and she can draw good—I saw some of her drawings. And she really likes Tiger, so that makes her a good egg. Cindy's not a brat or anything, and Marcia's okay too. She just ignores us and goes off with her friends, so as long as she isn't pickin' on us, I guess she's all right."

"Well, that's two votes of…well, if not confidence, at least acceptance. Greg, how about you?"

"Marcia's really girly," Greg said doubtfully. "Always fussing with her hair and talking about clothes and stuff with those girly friends of hers." He met his father's gaze. "But she's actually pretty nice when we get to talking. I mean, once we talked about how hard it can be to be the oldest kid in the family." Mike nodded understanding; being a firstborn himself, he could identify. "And Jan's a pretty good kid—like Pete said, she really likes Tiger a lot, and I think Tiger likes her too. Cindy…well, she's a cute little kid. Heck, maybe she'll even outgrow that lisp someday."

"Okay," said Mike. "So you like Carol's girls, and you get along with them pretty well. Now, do you think you can live with them every day? They're not going to have all the same interests as you will. They may not understand why you like sports or cars or whatever, and you may think that their interests are boring. Carol says they all take dancing lessons." The boys made faces, and he lifted a hand. "That's what I'm talking about. The girls would probably have that same reaction to hearing about you guys playing football or something like that. Since it's three boys on one side and three girls on the other, there's going to have to be a lot of compromise…a _lot._

"You'll be sharing almost everything with them. We'll all be living in the same house. You saw the house plans, and you know that you're going to have to share a bathroom with the girls, since it's right between your new room and the girls' room. You'll be sharing the phone, and TV-watching time, and the swingset and teeter-totter out back. You'll all be playing in the same yard together. Alice will still be working for us, which means she's going to be taking on laundry and meal preparation and a little extra house cleaning for Carol and the girls. She'll have that much more to do, which means you boys will need to learn a few extra chores so that Alice isn't completely overwhelmed with all this new work. Carol will be helping, of course, but I think it's only fair that all you kids, boys _and_ girls, at least keep your rooms neat and pick up your belongings around the house.

"You'll have your own spaces—you boys will have your room, the girls will have their room. But in the bathroom especially, you'll have to make room for each other and make some allowances. You need to have some consideration for each other so that you'll all get along and there'll be some peace. But…" He smiled. "Think of all the great times we're going to have. We'll be a family, and we'll make all kinds of new memories, even while we have our old ones. I know life will change a lot, and it's a lot to ask of you. That's why I wanted to run this by you before I ever say anything to Carol." The boys nodded, and he sat back. "So do you think you can handle all that?"

The boys were quiet for a moment or two; then Bobby said, "You like Carol lots, don't you, Dad?"

"I love her very much, Bobby," Mike said, nodding.

"You still like Mommy too, though, right?" Bobby persisted.

"I'll always love your mom," Mike said. "But I can love Carol too, just as much. I said this once to Greg, and now I'll say it to you. You can still always love your mom, and that's what I want you to do. That doesn't mean you're pushing her out of your heart. Your mom will always have a special place in your heart. But hearts can make room for more people, and you can make up a whole new place for Carol."

Bobby nodded. "That sounds good. I think it'd be nice to have a new mom in the house…then Alice wouldn't have to do everything, and we'd have dinner lots faster…if Carol's a good cooker."

Mike laughed. "Carol's very good at cooking, but I'm sure Alice will still cook for us too."

"I was kinda worried about that too," Peter spoke up. "Alice is one of our family. I wouldn't want to see her go away. If she's staying with us, then like Bobby said, she can help Carol. And 'sides, I know you love Carol a lot. I think it's good, 'cause I didn't like seeing you sad after Mom died, and now you've got Carol and you're happy again. It's better to have a happy dad than a sad one."

"I'll agree with that," Mike said cheerfully. "Greg?"

Greg grinned, only a little crookedly. "Well, outside of being invaded by girls and all that girly stuff, I guess I could handle it. I like what you said to Bobby about hearts making room for more people. Carol's really cool, Dad. She's nice, and she doesn't talk to me like I'm three years old. And anyway, I bet someday when I have to start trying to figure out girls, Carol can answer a lot of questions."

Laughing, Mike nodded. "I'm sure she can. So what say, fellas—do I pop the question?"

"What's that mean?" Bobby asked.

"It means ask Carol to marry him, dummy," Greg told him.

"Oh," said Bobby. "Then I say yes."

"Me too," Peter chimed in.

"Yeah, Dad, go for it," Greg concluded, grinning. "It's going to be pretty wild, but you know what? Maybe it'll be fun too."

Delighted—and mightily relieved—Mike grinned back. "Terrific, men. You're about the best three sons any man could ever have asked for. Well, go ahead and finish your desserts, and take Tiger for his last run tonight, and then we'll relax." And he'd plan his proposal to Carol, too.


	24. Chapter 24

**A NEW BEGINNING**

Mike's co-workers at Matthews & Phillips congratulated him on his engagement, but Mike got the feeling that most of them thought he was crazy to double the size of his family. Mike didn't care, though; he loved Carol, and he was very fond of her girls, prepared to love them as if they were his own.

The kids, presented with the fact of their parents' engagement, had to adjust the way they thought of one another, which made for a few wrinkles in their relationships for a little while. Greg and Marcia were a little more resentful than the younger four, since as the oldest two, they'd been established in their schools longer and each had a circle of friends they'd known for several years. Marcia and her friends eventually solved the problem by agreeing to go on meeting in the park on weekends, since the new neighborhood was within reasonable biking distance. Greg, though, found himself settling for the future prospect of seeing his friends on baseball and football leagues, according to the season.

Bobby and Cindy were both excited. They were pretty gregarious kids and had the ability to easily make new friends; they were still little and wouldn't turn seven and six respectively till after Mike and Carol had married and moved into their new home. By then, both Mike and Carol figured they'd have made enough new friends in the neighborhood that they could invite them to outdoor parties in the backyard.

Peter and Jan seemed almost relieved in some ways to be moving. Peter, of course, was still being plagued by Bruce Torelli; and while Bruce was what Peter grudgingly termed an "equal-opportunity bully", he seemed to enjoy teasing Peter. Mike tried to talk with him one late-March evening. "You know it's likely there'll be bullies in your new school too."

"Well," retorted Peter, "at least they won't be Bruce Torelli." Mike had laughed in resignation and given up; but in mid-April the problem unexpectedly solved itself. Bruce and his family moved to Montana, a site so comfortably far away that Peter happily expected he'd never see the other boy again.

Jan wasn't plagued by bullies, but she did suffer from a certain amount of shyness, and was looking forward to a fresh start in a new school. "Maybe I can be somebody different," she said at a late-April cookout at the Brady house, which had gone up for sale. Mike, the boys and Alice had to take Tiger somewhere every Sunday so the realtor could have an open house and, with luck, get the place sold a little faster; but Mike had decided to have one last family gathering there and brought Carol and the girls over to have a big Saturday-evening feast.

"You don't want to change your personality _too_ much, Jan," Mike said. "I'm glad you want to be less shy and try harder to make friends—but it's always best to just be yourself."

"What if nobody likes me as myself?" Jan asked.

"Someone will," Mike assured her. "People are different, and not everybody thinks the same way. Don't worry, you'll have new friends, and the best part of that is that usually people who like the same things will be able to form friendships. So you'll probably find some friends who like to draw as much as you do."

"I hope so," said Jan, but she looked cautiously optimistic, and she even hopped up and gave Mike a big hug. He felt warmed, even more so when he caught Carol's smile over Jan's shoulder.

April ended and May took its place, and things began to escalate. RSVPs began trickling in at the Tyler house, and Agnes Brady spent quite a bit of time there with Martha Tyler, going over seating arrangements and plans for decorations, catering, the wedding cake, flowers, music, and the minister who would marry Mike and Carol. And of course, there was Carol's wedding dress and bridesmaid dresses for the girls; Mike would wear a rented tuxedo, and the boys would be dressed in suits and ties, which elicited groans and then reluctant capitulation.

With a week left before the wedding, Agnes and Martha went into near paroxysms when the organist they'd lined up suddenly had to attend a funeral on the east coast, and wouldn't be able to play at the wedding. After some frantic discussion and a few fruitless attempts to find a replacement, they decided to just do without. They then proceeded to take the girls downtown to have them fitted for their rose-pink gowns; all three were excited and fluttery, and had a wonderful time trying the dresses on. Though they were naturally much more used to their own grandmother, they warmed up to Agnes quickly, and Cindy even started calling her "Grandma Brady", to Agnes' delight. Seeing the thrilled expression on her face, Marcia and Jan followed their little sister's lead, and Agnes' day was complete. Mike chuckled when he heard the anecdote.

Two days later the house sold, and everybody began pitching in to do earnest packing. The less-essential things had already been packed away, ready to be taken over to the new house, which was now finished. With Bradys and Tylers pitching in en masse, Mike's old house was completely emptied by the day before the wedding; and Carol's and the girls' furniture and other belongings had been taken over as well.

That evening, their last as single parents, Mike and Carol took a slow walk-through of their new home while the kids ran around outside, more or less supervising the placement and setup of the swingset and seesaw. The boys had insisted on finding the perfect spot for Tiger's doghouse themselves. With the faint sounds of the kids' voices providing occasional backdrop to their tour, Mike and Carol strolled through the rooms hand in hand. The furniture was in place, but beds needed to be made and dressers and closets filled, so that the mattresses were bare and there were packing cartons everywhere, in all sizes.

"It's the end of an era in our lives," Carol suddenly remarked, standing at the window gazing into the gathering darkness of evening.

Mike, who'd been daydreaming, was surprised by her voice. "The end of an era?" he repeated, and saw her nod without turning her head. He crossed the room and slipped his arms around her from behind.

"All these changes…it's going to be awhile before we've gotten a real routine established," she said.

He grinned into her hair. "But just imagine the fun we'll have doing it," he said. "Maybe it's the end of one era, but it's also the beginning of another. From tomorrow on, we'll be Mike and Carol Brady, parents of six, three sons and three daughters."

"That's a bunch," Carol said jokingly.

"Precisely," agreed Mike, feeling whimsical and full of excitement. "The Brady bunch, that's us." She let out a laugh, turned in his arms and kissed him, and he responded, his heart full.

**THE END**


End file.
